The hat or product placement

My bucket hat has the widest brim,
In the distant sky red clouds gleam,
I walk down the road, by tourists worn;
I can be in Miami, Moscow or Rome,
It has been 10 or 300 years since the day I was born.
I'm drinking cola and thinking of God:
He turned out to be a decent sort,
Such a pity that his days are numbered -
Let's begin the Apocalypse-summer!
Famine awaits the taxi, traffic's a bummer.
He comes and we ride through the city slummer:
Cut it open, belly up —
Spill out all the entrails and gut
Turns out inside it's not eternal, but disgustingly human from flash and bone:
In the stench of war, in reeking death and capitalistic dung
There are friends, hope, love and other such junk.
We'll  wipe it all out and go scorched-earth:
There will be New order and total rebirth.
The wind is rising... my hat was blown into the dust.
We're almost ready. Seconds are ticking past...
Screen is on. A downward glance:
Your driver Oleg is almost here!
Well, looks like the end of the world is near,
But we still have a few minutes to go:
You can pick up your hat, dust it off, and finally call your mom