The Shklovsky Band.
It all happened back in 1934
The best years of my life and of the whole Secret Police.
Dasha was upset, 'cause her cat fell out of the window,
Irka Stroyevа had an abortion just two weeks ago.
My job kept me running round the city all day,
Up to my neck in work, weeding out those enemies at home.
Twenty busts a day,
No, thirty busts a day,
Those SOBs hiding in nearly every house.
Then one night we’re dragging out some fucking priest,
Back door is boarded up, and - damn! - at the entrance there’s a crowd.
"Tikhomirov, move it! What the hell? Get us through!"
He steps ahead - bang! A roaring in my ears,
Bright flashes, and a scream,
The cold floor scrapes beneath my cheeck,
Inside me, something’s burning.
I can’t find the bolt,
Tikhomirov snarls: "Hang in there!" I shoot through smoke into the yard...
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The priest's son’s shot dead at point blank range.
Could that scrawny kid set off that homemade bomb?
No way, forget it - the kid is only seven!
Someone lifts me up, drags me to a car,
Blood spurts into my pants.
Someone cries out: "Bandages!"
Someone is averting his gaze...
I was out cold till morning
At seven they were sure I was a goner,
The Special Operations Department head came in
Looked at my semicorpse, and asked: "What's the matter?”,
And then, boom, he added, telling the doctors to fuck off:
"It's all OK, kiddo. We'll cure you, hang in there!
As the pride and joy of the Secret Police, you'll be frozen in a special coffin.
Just to spite the enemy, you’ll wake up in 2015!
Medicine will have come a long way, baby:
All types of electronics and a laser surgeon.
They’ll sew up your bones, don’t shit in your pants -
"Secret Police knows how to save its own!"
When they brought me there I was like putty.
Laid me in the coffin, it's so cramped, my cap has barely made it in.
Then everything started whirling...
Farewell, my Soviet motherland! Farewell 1934!
Farewell, comrade Yagoda, it's a good man you’re!
The years flew by, and here I am in the twenty-first century.
Painless operation, two months in a health station...
Looks like I am home once more, in those familiar walls
I can't help missing those who stayed behind
But yet again, thank God, I am up to my neck in work with all the enemies still there
Twenty busts a day, no, thirty busts a day,
Those SOBs hiding in nearly every house...
