He came from Russia he had a thirst for hovels
He wrote a lot of 1000 page novels,
That’s where I,
Caught his eye.
He told me that his dad was loaded,
I said ‘In that case I’ll have a rum and vodka’.
He said ‘Fine.’
And then in thirty seconds time,

He said

I want to live like Russian peasants,
I want to do whatever Russian peasants do,
I want to preach at Russian peasants,
I want to preach at Russian peasants,
Like you.

Well what else could I do?
I said ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

I took him to our Obshchina
I don’t know why
But I had to start it
Somewhere
So it started, there.

I said, ‘Pretend you’ve got no freedom.’
He just laughed and said, ‘Oh, you’re so gleedom.’
I said, ‘Yeah?
Well, peasant life in Russia is despair.’

Are you sure

You want to live like Russian peasants?
You want to see whatever Russian peasants see
You want to preach at Russian peasants,
You want to preach at Russian peasants like me?

But he didn’t understand,
He just smiled and took my land.

Lose your land, become a serf,
Grow a beard and till the earth,
Eat some bread and eat some gruel
Understand that life is cruel.

But still you’ll never get it right
‘Cause when you’re laid on floor at night
Knowing you don’t have a wall
If you called your dad he could stop it all.

Yeah.

You’ll never live like Russian peasants
You’ll never do whatever Russian peasants do
You’ll never fail like Russian peasants
You’ll never watch your life slide out of view,
And dance and drink and screw
Because there’s nothing else to do.

(The singer died of cholera three minutes later).