While West was Wild and Waste
(Khabarov)
I had a hat in my hand
And some wishes in my head,
Then I got a black old gun,
Thought, that issues were all gone.
I had a hat on my head
And a pistol in my hand,
When I must go on the run...
I thought, that wisdom is under ground.
There I met the mad red rats,
And a flock of vicious cats,
I shot short rounds not too bad,
But they were biting me like bread.
I woke up, confined to bed,
Felt how it feels to be dead.
I prayed - help me, mom and dad!
But there was no help to be had.
Noone could help...
I heard a voice, which was speechless,
It spoke inside my craziness:
"Sinfulness can't find her place
Only in the one God's grace..."
Since then I don't wear a hat,
The gun’s no longer in my hand.
And to God this prayer I make:
Pardon me and don't forsake!
****
(november 2012)