бесполезный - ураган
текст песни

I am sitting on the porch of my old wooden house in Kansas and I hear how the announcer on the radio transfers an urgent meteorological report: a hurricane of unprecedented dimensions of unprecedented sizes moves towards my small town. In an incessant voice, she gives statistics: for short two weeks of the life of a hurricane, he had already managed to harm dozens of states, to reduce hundreds of cities from the ground, to bury not one thousand people. I light up the next cigarette and continue to listen. The announcer brings to the attention of the residents of Kansas that Cassiopeia (it is such an unusual name by scientists gave the destroyer of human destinies) in a few hours to cover our miserable town. Experts advise the townspeople to leave their homes and run away, maybe then they will be able to escape. I turn off the radio, go into the house and go to the closet for a bottle of my beloved whiskey, because it was he who throughout my life helped me solve problems with women. I knew that this moment would come sooner or later, it was simply written in my family to die precisely under such circumstances, even despite my mother’s stories about the magical country of Oz in which she fell. Why am I so sure of my death? Yes, because since the death of Mrs. Dory the world has changed: America has no longer needs you and every resident of the United States is perfectly understood, so I take a bottle, light the next strong and return to the porch, turn on the radio. Sudden message: Cassiopeia is already approaching our town, so everyone who did not have time to leave the city can only pray. I take out a small cross from my pocket, stare at it, and then I throw it with all my strength in the field. To hell that's all! What is the meaning of God if He cannot save our sinful souls?! In the distance, I see how huge clouds cast lightning to the ground, the thunder intensifies, and the wind is already beginning to bend the trees. I set up the radio again, but instead of the horror of a calm voice of the announcer, I hear only a uniform hiss. Great, it will be our song with you, ces. I finish the whiskey and the empty bottle goes to the thick grass after the cross donated by the mother. Suddenly her silhouette appears on the horizon, I have never seen a woman more beautiful: as if a huge tunnel connecting our atheist earth with heaven. I understand that the end is close, I wrap myself in my jacket, sit down more comfortably, light the last cigarette in my life, make noise transmitted on the radio louder and wait for my death. The ces is approaching.