I grew up in the Leningrad blockade,
But I didnít drink or go out back then.
I saw the burning of the bombed-out food warehouses,
And I stood in line for a bit of bread.
And what were you doing back then,
When our city wasnít even counting its dead?
You were eating bread with caviar,
While I was using for cigars
Cigarette butts off the platform, half mixed with God knows what.
The birds didnít even fly from the frost,
And the thief didnít have anything to steal,
My parents that winter were taken by the angels,
And all I cared about was not falling down.
We were up to here
With the hungry and the dystrophic -
We were all starving, even the D.A.
And you, in the evacuation,
Were reading the news
And listening to Walter Cronkite on the radio.
The blockade got long, too long,
But our people kicked its enemiesí asses -
And now weíre living snug as a bug in a rug,
Except that the cops keep getting in the way.
Iím telling you gently:
Good citizens with your neighborhood watch badges!
Keep your filthy paws out of my soul!
As for your private,
Unpatriotic life -
The DOJ and CIO already know all about it.