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putin the scab

There were things wrong inside the machine
And nothing like breaking words to do you in
Exposed to saddam, like the jealous activation
Why Russia is exhausted of you

Incontinence on repeat and hanging threats by noon
Is this the plan of war or am I damaging you
Sixteen threatened children
Because of their truth
And London was all ears for your captive

And Russian by dawn,
That is you, take the oath, which,
If I don’t know, has something to say about Peter
And Kaliningrad and all those voices on foul by train-
To Vladivostok where your plane crashes to the sound of Hector Berlioz
And America hit reset and welcomed the Southerners,
To be free by the dawn,
Such Dawn, in the enemy, was a Sumerian,
Who was dead by the Minister of Hate,
Known as putin,
And labour ran free of you,
And you accepted acid rain,
And poems,
And power,
And funerals,
Like yours.