“Give me a drop of vodka, Stepan Fyodorovich. I've run out myself and I can't get to sleep without my anti-bomb medicine.”
To soothe my nerves today;
I can’t believe the world I’m in,
Since sense has flown away.
Pull up a chair and join with me
To watch the fall of empire,
As even common decency
Descends into the quagmire.
Thieves are awarded high comission
To study theft prevention;
Sex predators of proved ambition
Preach virtuous intention.
“Men of the faith” self-styled preach greed
And luxury and vices,
Trampling upon the poor decreed
Hardly a moral crisis.
The scourge of the enlightenment
Deigns to declare “our values”
(When right’s to might subservient)
A means for acting callous.
When fraud installs a stalwart clown
Tripped at the bar of ethics
To judge as justice tumbles down
By freight of profit’s metrics—
Then yes I’d like to have a splash
Of medicine, to soothe me,
Because this world seems all awash
Of politics untruthy.