When normal life obeys the rules of farce,
I'd rather follow not its' laws and rules,
And safely guard my ladder to the stars
From watchful eyes of wiseacres and fools.
I'd rather not approach from any side
The propaganda's swamp in search of fame,
For nightingales, that sing alone at night,
And croaking frogs - will never be the same
I'd rather shake in fits of holy ire,
When merchants rule, exploiting the saints,
Than lend an ear to an honoured liar
With utter lack of decency and sense.