Прочь! Go away!

Металлолома будет много, лучше бы объединили силы, враг уже заходит с тыла! Go away! You all give up on me. Look at my back with contempt. Turn around, please, I need it. I want to be a yard, like a dog. Saleswomen to smile Putting a smile on his lips. I’m for the children to launch into me Their sticks and stones in the back of the head. Darkness attracts me more It is easy to be free in it. Turn away, please, I need it So that I don’t meet people’s eyes. I dare not ask for your pity, I know it won’t help me. I don’t want to bother you anymore My anger and longing in me aches. My anger will bite Like a yard mongrel in the garbage. Turn around, please, I need it. I am in myself, I am in my perestroika. Be damned!