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|Poetry for people who hate poetry|
And did those tanks in ancient times,
Roll over Russia's mountains red?
And was the holy Eagle of God,
Over Mother Russia's pastures bred?
And did the countanance divine,
Shine away from our clouded hills?
And was Putingrad builded here,
Among those dark, satanic mills?
Bring me my missile of burning Uranium!
Bring me my tanks of desire!
Bring me my mafia! O clouds envelop!
Bring me my KGB of hire!
I will not cease from selfish delight,
Nor shall my people sleep in their land,
Till we have built Putingrad,
In Putin's red and evil land.