Voyenachalnik ushyol

 We are lost
I see the remains of us
You all staring
wanting some sort of instruction now

I say these are the best of us
We are organized by region
we might as well be a religion
we don't seek the truth we believe we know it

But we are lost
Desperation in the eyes of our soldiers
Day is churning dusk
men are dizzied by their apathy

Make a little speech
stirr those last little sparks
Send them off on their last suicide missions
While I retire somewhere out of bomb blast range

And so it was
Later that night after fighting died down
I armed and returned to the spot
Sirens of their ambulances and security forces

I loomed in the shadows and listened to their voices
Then vanished
as if I had never existed