Sycophant

There are foes abound,
Demons in yellow and blue,
It is them in the wrong,
So we absolutely must muscle in on our peers,
Brother leader wouldn’t lie to us,
He is defending us from democracy,

I’m a sycophant they decree,
Beholden to a tyrant in a rusty crown,
But I’m a patriotic Russian,
I have blood on my hands they say,
That we’re populating orphanages,
But I quite like the colour red,

One man chose this war,
And he tells us it is for us,
So we are the rightful aggressor,
State media wouldn’t lie to us,
So we’ll be cheering and raving,
Even as the mushroom clouds sprout,

Ura!

Eastern Front

Under thundery skies of white,
Came the rumble of tracks,
And the boom of gunnery,
A boreal front is rent open,
An iron cross enclosing upon an eastern jugular,
Hammer and sickle on the backfoot,
Surrender was no option,
And so flesh was ground against iron,
The blitzkrieg was on,

Two flags spiral around each other in dispute,
Cities and fields become their shrapnel market,
Lives were the currency paid in full,
But both fate and snow had other ideas,
The winter came to its sons aid,
Freezing fuel and choking soldiers in grey,
Another weapon against the iron cross,
Like the little emperor before,
This evil could not weather the winterstorm.

Rasputin

I remember a tale,
Far to the east,
In the cold empire,
A plan was produced,
To kill a mystic,
A holy man,
A healer,
A strannik,
A problem,

After previous attempted failed,
By a peasant madwoman coerced,
A new scheme was required,
An invite to a house,
With a blade biding its time,
Cups and bottles of venom,
Three gunshots of hate,
A lover of a queen,
Buried in the snow.