Rodion

Strung out cold and lonely
With a gun in his hand
He stares across the river
But has no other plans
The key that hangs around his neck
To the old gulag
He keeps all other memories
In a worn out leather bag
Strung out cold and lonely
With a gun in his hand
He squeezes tight the handle
But has no other plans
The key that hangs around his neck
To the old gulag
All his other memories
Are dreams he’s never had…