бруталистка (brutalistka) - robert c. ford lyrics
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it wasn’t a place to be born;
a concrete cradle baptized
by the shadows of bulbs
fl!ckering and swaying
like hanged men
it certainly wasn’t a place to die;
amongst broken*winged pigeons
nesting on a rusted cross
where god spoke
only in geiger cl!cks
but for a lost soul
with a 90*day visa
no ground felt more hallowed
no university could impart
a greater truth
she arrived in a marshrutka
stole my name
and drove off in my prized bmw
she gave good shadow
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