Our fir trees accost your eyes,
Our names confuse your tongues.
To you, we are a Russian circus:
Submissive women,
Drinking men,
Old men in medals,
Old women with mops
Boys who excel in physics,
Girls who are sluts.
Fuck off, I’m telling you,
With your national project,
With your melting pot,
With your “normal” names,
With your Arik Einstein nostalgia,
Don’t come to my Russian circus,
Because I’m a submissive man,
A drinking woman,
An old man in a parking lot,
An old woman on a swing,
A boy in a tutu,
A girl who codes in Python.
We all dance the hora
To the sound of Pussy Riot.
