Being spot weldedOn a red steel cross
Made of sickle and hammer
Vodka bottles at my feet
Represent drunken miracles.
Wine to vodka, walking on a hot beam,
Purifying sinful foremans.
I reject the capitalist devil,
unifying the Prols under my wintry beard,
No reforms shall do you socialist bumpkin!
Betrayed by the unconscious,
I am captured by the Bourg,
forcing me to spend money,
they tarnished my soul, forced me to buy
in a free market economy.
Death comes to me now, as bills are stuffed in my rags,
but I shall be resurrected.
I am the communist Jesus.