Елена Магура - Поэзия
текст песни

I take Poetry by the clitoris...
Why else should I take Poetry?
In the corners of her sick mouth open
Grace hung with angry saliva.
I'm stepping on Poetry's throat,
Looking into her children's eyes,
And she obediently dies,
Worms crawl on it in the dark.
I open Poetry like a jar -
She has such a rotten smell...
But again the playfully disobedient citizen
Proudly tells me to fuck off!
Poetry does not have a woman's face,
Only bunches of female genitalia,
Revelation of a belly full of lead
And the bones sticking out of the throat...