A man called Vlad

 

Once upon a time there was a man,

With tiny hands and tiny feet.

Born in a city called Leningrad,

With a tiny stature and tiny -.

 

From when he was a little boy,

To his parents, he never seemed quite right-

He never played with children’s toys,

And looked like a reptile, with a cold lizard sight.

 

So ugly and small! It was a shame.

The other children called him names.

And when his confidence was struck down,

Only naked pictures of Stalin could turn his frown.

 

He grew up so angry, He

Turned into a man, called Vladimir,

With his repressed sexuality,

And his insulted, burning ears.

 

He grew up with a chip on his shoulder,

In some magical kingdom called, “THE MOTHERLAND!”

He admired men a little older,

He was George Michael’s biggest secret fan.

 

And then he joined the KGB,

Where he could indulge in his hidden passion,

And could live out his secret life,

Having Egor and Denis smash his ass in.

 

He went far, his career progressed well,

Through his lack of humanity.

Those who found out his secrets, he had them killed!

It was impossible for him to live happily.

 

Never had he practised meditation.

He had such a tiny little poor sad mind ☹

He never read Tolstoy, didn’t understand the emotions,

And the words were too big, and took up too much time!

 

Dull and mean, and dull and mean,

He soon became the president.

One of the most common dictators’ people had seen,

Then the media and TV, he took for rent.

 

“UG! UG!” Some Russians scratched their heads,

Looking at their TV screens, like so many apes.

Their jaws gaping open, they were hand-fed,

Whatever lie their tsar had made.

 

In villages and towns, they said things like-

“IF ONLY THE LEADER KNEW-

How we live, with so little money-

He’d save us then, it must be true!”

 

But the truth was, he didn’t give a fuck!

About even his family, let alone the people!

If anyone was struggling, well, bad luck!

He cared only to please strong men, and his inner circle.

 

Then one day his old brain just snapped

-He had wet the bed again, the 8th time in the month,

So he angrily directed a full attack

On the Ukrainian nation, then went for lunch.

 

In his grand old palace, out by the sea,

Bought with all the money of the Russian nation,

His butler’s scrotum tasted quite savoury.

He licked his balls clean then went back to the mission.

 

Angrier and angrier, he grew still,

And sadder, and sadder. And Without friends.

In his drawer was a mixture of various pills,

For his heart, lungs, liver, and his broken bell end.

 

He got more annoyed at some media,

And cried, “Why won’t they play the game my way?”

Like a spoiled child, and weak with hysteria,

He stomped his feet, screamed, and took free speech away.

 

The truth is, I feel a little sorry,

For this pathetic little man with such a soft ego,

Take away his lynch men, and his money,

And there’s really nothing left, as you well know.

 

He is just a coward, with low self-esteem,

Running around poisoning people, hiding behind walls,

Brick by brick, if you take away his team,

He has no substance. He will fall.