Sweet Soviet Bliss
I'll sleep hungry tonight and once or twice more,
The Black Maria soon knocking at my door.
The Gulag or death the Dvoika decide,
My name and life in an album Yezhov and Vyshynskii will sign.
Grain is scarce,
Collectivization the source, Communism the excuse for all the discord.
The stomachs are empty of everyone around,
Stalin sits happy awaiting his glorious crown.
Now I hear some knocking,
Some screams,
Some taunting.
The Maria has arrived,
The sky dark,
Daunting.
Too weak to stand,
Body weak and cold,
Dragged into the Black Raven,
To never grow old.
I watch a man,
Torn from his wife and daughter.
A gun to his head,
His life coming to an end.
He gasps, "I love you!"
To these two sobbing women.
He is beaten for this outburst,
Until he bleeds on the ground.
As the blood spills from his head,
And he struggles to stand,
He grips a silver cross in his bloody broken hand.
Not a tear escapes his sad,
Anguished eyes,
A bullet in his head bringing silence,
Then cries.
It is now my turn in line to die.
They stand me up,
held by two "men",
A third holds the bloody muzzle,
Laughing with his friends.
Pressing the cold steel to my head.
One shot fired,
Another to be sure.
Just another Kulaks life,
for the U.S.S.R.
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