Post Soviet Post Mortem

Those beneath us are the ones who need us You've let somebody else take our place Cry us a river Cross your little fingers You've let somebody else take our place I'm addicted to conception of affectionate narration Hang the king, elect the bleak reflection of perfection A bald man's statue in the middle of a square I love this land, dog Express the extraordinary need for demonstration Build the bigger and balder piece of bloody meditation A black building, white building, green building, people singing: I love this land, but Mother of god Was all of it worth it? Don't stand in the doorway Oh, don't block up the hall WE ARE DONE Christmas present Life is not that pleasant All those idols are not worth your time The words are forgotten They're drowning in the water Where's the beauty in your ordinary life? We're fallen idols Begging for your kindness Do you remember all the songs we used to play? We bow in your presence Hope you buy our record Don't let somebody else take our place