The Great Buffoon was crucified
For doing nothing wrong...
They expected curses
But heard only a moan.
His sinful body perished
And lay all cold and grey...
The spirit was floating o'er him
And didn't fly away.
We dreamt of bright pacific day,
Went to the Land of Gold.
The Buffoon's cross showed us the way,
We were so strong and bold.
We never died and never lived,
Our feet pressed phantom steps...
We were the pilgrims... yes, indeed...
And carried chains as belts.
Another day... another pain,
Our leaders all were blind,
And crosses fell away, away...
We never saw the light.
We went along all dusty crypts,
We slept there, cried and wept.
Pale parchments plastered our lips...
The Land was black and dead.
...The Buffoon's cross crowns our graves,
We are outside the door...
The Great Buffoon comes in the end,
And now he runs the store.
The Buffoon
© Copyright: Дмитрий Сучков, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106122701981
Свидетельство о публикации №106122701981
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