the darkest night is over

the darkest night is over
but there’s nothing left to see
the castles you once built have
washed out to the sea

the girls you loved
but couldn’t get
are growing moustache
now you could win
all crazy bets
but you have gone too far

the darkest night is over
but there’s nothing left to see
the lakes of burning sorrow
are dry, you cannot drink

the boy you loved
but couldn’t be
is growing moustache
it’s you
and you can walk the sea
and weld all rusty scars

the darkest night is over
but there’s nothing left to see
the turtle sheds it’s cover
and is finally free

the darkest night is over
but there’s nothing left
to see
the time has peeled your cover
and your naked soul is free

so what about animal rights in darfur

so what about
animal rights in darfur
and human rights on dark side streets in rome
where a couple of gipsy boys
are waiting to rob you

so what about
almighty polish plumbers
taking all your jobs
already tomorrow

so what about
adolf and joseph
mao zedong and che guevera

so what about the dreams gone rotten

so what
if we have just one life to live
and one death to die

just one life just one death
and a lot of love in the meantime

you don't have to be an animal
to have a right to be loved
you even don't have to be
a black hungry child

it's all about love
it's all that there is
somebody who loves
is never a beast

things are tough all over

things are tough all over
wine bottle corks
don't grow back into cork trees

nobody protects animal rights in darfur

almighty polish plumbers
cannot fix all the pipes of lonely flemish ladies

things are tough all over
every time we fart
the climate changes to worse

everybody feels guilty
and buys redemption from oxfam

things are tough all over
in mother's belly we all were sans papiers
and even now
we are lacking paper
the printed paper called euros and dollars

things are tough all over
electronic woodpeckers drill oil from oil lamps of our minds
the light of knowledge fades out in the dark age of iphones and internet

things are tough all over
but human flesh is still soft
still weak warm and wet
and this comforts me a lot

not that i feel comfortable
but i feel
that i'm right to tell everybody
who wants to share one's guilt with me
to fuck off

things can be tough
but i am soft

i'm tough enough to say it

the things are soft all over

i don't kill baby seals

i don't kill baby seals
i am not communist
i am not jew
i am not nigger
i am a guy from east
with a knife in the pocket to cut smoked sausage and cheese

i don't grill christian babies
maybe i should but i prefer lamb
i am a simple guy
i'm not deep and i don't care about umberto ecco
i love girls with long legs who like joy division

the eyes
dead lamb don't follow me when i sleep

the eyes
dead lamb don't follow me when i sleep

i don't think about god when i see a double rainbow

i am nihilist
this is what i was taught at school and at home

question authority
wear a mask if needed

this is the scar the soviet era left me
the generation of rotten punks
i hate enthusiasm
any activism is fake to me
any slogan is hollow
any ideal is too official

with people like me
you cannot start a revolution
but you can't maintain a system either

but the hell with me
the world is wider

and the baby seals and french communists
are safe from me
they can safely dream

reality is real

you go to bozaar concert hall
it's a balkan festival
and everybody waits for a miracle
a miracle of reality

people in the west feel that
east is more real
serbia
albania
macedonia

the further you go the more real it gets
india nepal thailand
all the way around the globe
to the jungles of amazon
to the strange mountains or peru
where they used to sacrifice children

you go to bozaar
to buy the miracle 16 euros a day
or take a flight to salty and sweaty mexico

sometimes you feel you have it now
the miracle
the wisdom of native people
the grand secret of living without bathrooms

but then you return to your reality
to brussels to leuven to aalst to namur
to roosendaal to wetteren to dendermonde
and the miracle is gone

the miracle is gone
but reality is still there

your reality
it's a miracle as well
miracle of superhighways and water closets
that most of you don't notice

take a look in the mirror
all realities are real
your chubby belly and chunky buttocks are real
and all you need is to clap your hands
and sing in shower

clap your hands and sing
reality is real

i plead guilty

i plead guilty
to global warming
to hunger in korea
to aids in africa
to gulag and auschwitz

i plead guilty
to not saving whales
to pissing in a river
to not flossing my teeth
to drinking and sodomy
to wearing fur and sleeping naked

i plead guilty
to not showing my love to my parents
to not showing my anger to the ones i'm afraid of

i plead guilty
to the fact that walloons hate flemish and flemish hate dutch

i plead guilty to disrespect
to the misery of doubt
to mental and physical masturbation
to lack of concentration

i plead guilty to reading from a paper

i plead guilty though i feel no guilt

i plead guilty
so all the good judges around us
can judge and punish me
and later feel guilty as well

i plead guilty and carry out the sentence

i'm sentenced to live
and read long poems
without feeling guilty

amazing place that estonia

amazing place that estonia
it wrecks and saves you again
and you’re often lost
but they always find you
at the sweetest moment of life

estonia taught my heart to fear
and to cover my fear in rage
so to save my soul
i had to flee
but i’m just running in a cage

i once could see
estonian tv
was blinded by it
now i see

amazing place that estonia
like a drag queen on the snow
so beautiful and yet so fake
so proud and lonely inside

amazing place that estonia
a maze without the end
i promised you i marry you
and with you my days will end

so now take me
in your arms to sleep
your arms so black and brown
and golden sea of rye will grow
from that amazing place is sleep

what can i do my beautiful friend

what can i do my beautiful friend
i love you but for you i’m strange
i have a russian name
i wear glasses
i admit to loving other girls
and countries

my beautiful friend
we share the same language
we speak about freedom and identity
success and respect
but your hair are blond
and mine are bleached

my beautiful friend
my grandfathers fought on different sides
and our country was alone between them
ruled raped and still not broken

my beautiful friend
i love you but for me you are strange
sometimes i feel so close to you
and the mist over your valleys
and the people in your trams
and those majestic concrete buildings
but then again
when you tell me stop
when you tell me to prove myself
all the time
everywhere
and if you have your beaten drunk brothers
freeze to death in january
i find you strange

i am strange to you
estonia
and you are strange to me
and if two souls feel so strange
to each other
they are not
to be separated

if a raven bites you liver

if a raven bites you liver
if your car is keyed by teens
don’t start feeling down
just take a bite of snow

if it’s windy in your wallet
storm approaching in your head
don’t let feeling down
just take a bite of snow

if your wife has lost her appetite
cause you’re getting old and fat
don’t let feeling down
just take a bite of snow

if your girlfriends block your number
and your rooster sings alone
don’t let feeling down
just take a bite of snow

if your life seems light and easy
and it’s all unbearable
don’t let feeling down
just take a bite of snow

bite of snow
bite of snow
don’t let feeling down
just take a bite of snow

look up watch out

look up watch out
the stars are crazy tonight

look how they shimmer
over the palace of justice
like terror alarm

somebody or something
is breathing in my room
it's the gas heater
but no
hear it
there is somebody else

it's me

i open the window
and breath in
and look at those jerks
in the sky

consisting of atoms
and neutrons and neutrinos
and of the emptiness between those

just like me

a jerk
suffering from a need
to shimmer
to shimmer and to be loved
and looked at

i'm your star
take it or leave it

she was screaming

she was screaming
slow down slow down
and i did and the very same moment
wheels of my car got stuck in mud
and there we were
glued to the surface of the planet earth
bulrush around us
30 metres from baltic sea
and i thought
i want to kill you

the car was sleeping on its belly
in mud like a pig
i found a piece of wood
to replace a shovel
started digging mud around the tires
she cut down heaps of bulrush
found some stones
and i thought
i want to kill you

with the help of a lifting jack
it took only two hours
to get moving back to town
and i thought
i want to kill you

and i put my right arm
on your neck
and i said
i love you
girl
i love you

beep beep

beep beep
love is on it’s way
like a long and heavy train

ladies close the casements
caress your husband’s head
close your lips
for the first time in you life
around his little finger

beep beep
love is on its way
do you hear that weird noise
from snow covered street

this is not a tractor with a snowplough
these are
thousands of beating hearts

men hold tight
your woman
hold her tight so her heart
wouldn’t break ribs
or relationships
both public and secret

beep beep
love is on its way

if you won’t get cynical now
if your face does not get that
predator smile
you’ll be crushed

beep beep
now it’s here
a red river
takes away bridges
and cracks concrete dams

beep beep
love drives you over

beep beep
how many times already
beep beep
how many times again

beep beep
every time more blood on the street

human

human
like the last end
of mendeleev table

human like a flash of an unstable element
human who’s presence in the world
is very hard to identify
human who forms and
deforms constantly

human
do you know your name
human
very passing very precious very beautiful
human
my human your human
i
human

human
in human
inhuman

atom
neutron
neutrino
humanotron

so personal
so intimate
so multisided that
it’s hard to identify the whole

hard therefore possible
hard therefore solid

how do you do
i am
dmitri ivanovich mendeleev
cartographer of humans
humans who consist
of elements
i’ve arranged in my periodical table

elements of other people and nature
burnt rotten fucked
enlightened happy satisfied
elements

criminal elements
elements of elephants
great empty elementary
elevated endless elements

me and you my love
we consist of our selves
and when i’m in you
you consist of me as well

and our world
consists of us
and all is zen
inside is one with outside
and there is
nothing more to map
cartographers have finished their job
the periodical table is closed

rape kill survival

rape kill survival
1944
waffen ss helmets crumping
red army boots tramping
nation trapped
sides to choose
forest fighters robbers bandits
and yet the same sun
over ruins of a bombed city

rape kill survival
1944
boats heading to sweden and finland
submarine death concentration camps
and yet the same sun
behind those forms of water vapour
that we call clouds

fuck work survival
2008
cars in traffic jam
trams full of sleepy people
more money less time
marriage children divorce
tiny flat in suburbs
and yet the same sun
over steel and glass
of banks and shopping malls

fuck work survival
rape kill survival
1944
2008
survival survival survival

all the old men in our village

all the old men in our village
have seen adolf falling
and joseph rising

all the old men in our village
have seen porn magazines
and ufos

all the old men in our village
have seen blood in snow
and dead born calves

all the old men in our village
have seen soviet union
and european union

all the old men in our village
are smiling mute and blind

all the old men in our village
one by one
are meeting the divine

vodka-drinking cowboys

i come from the country
of vodka-drinking cowboys
i come from the country of quiet wives
with blue lanterns under their eyes
i come from that country
and my pace is running
the trains i take are high speed
no car less than a sports car satisfies me

i come from the country
of vodka-drinking cowboys
and their laughter
their stupid jokes and their pain inside
haunts me like columbian visa in my passport
i’m afraid of getting into fight
i carry a knife
i do complicated surgeries from time to time
trying to separate
myself from the country i was born in

the country of vodka-drinking cowboys
does not let me go

we come from school or from work

we come from school or from work
we come from a drinking spree in morning
we ride in a leased car
or a suburban trolley-bus

we speak in estonian to our child
or we swear in russian alone
we hum irish rover
coming out from a luxury apartment
in the medieval old town
traded for a studio in soho

we are holding a half empty beer can
or a mobile phone
or a black briefcase with state secrets
or a heating bill so light and yet so heavy

our mother is armenian
or from south estonia
our grandfather was jewish
or a miller from central lowlands

anyway it is
we still feel that
this is our estonia

this is not only my estonia
this is not only your estonia
this is not only his estonia

this country belongs to all of us
estonia is not a wife
or a syringe full of heroin
estonia is a resource
that can be
shared

estonia belongs to everybody
even whores can be respected and loved

we're still human

we're still human
in leased cars
in rented apartments
in irish pubs
in open air concerts of classical music
in death bed

we're still human
our conscience has not yet been
traded for silicon chip

we're still human
in weddings at banks in church
taking a leak eating out
in a fancy restaurant
our language is not yet
down to ones and zeros
we can still tell
natural and dirty jokes

we're still human
not yet europeans
not yet russians
not yet americans
and even they
are not machines yet

and there is
no better word than yet

this land is your land this land is my land

this land is your land this land is my land
from the narva river to the saare island
from the shores of lake peipsi
to sad lonely beaches of the baltic sea
this land
was made for you and me

this land was made for you and me
and for your jeep
and for your calf size dog
and a house 20 kilometers from the city centre
and 16 hours of work
including half an hour
when you fuck your sad young secretary

yes this land was made for you
and for me as well
for her as well
for him whomever as well
and for the numb feeling of
emptiness we all carry around

this land was made for you and me
and soon
in less then 50 years
we are one with this land
or any other land
you could cross in your land rover

we’ll be the land we’ll be the ground
this land is me
this land is you
from the narva river to the saare island
from the shores of lake peipsi
to sad lonely beaches of the baltic sea
this land
is made of you and me

i’ve been walking the

i’ve been walking the
fall footpaths of luxembourg
i’ve been warming my hands
in sands of sahara before sunrise
i’ve been freezed by air conditioning in turkey
like a frozen turkey
i’ve stood in pub queues in helsinki
i’ve bought ecstasy in sarajevo
to escape you
estonia

with no success of course
what success can a loser have
and a loser is what you’ve reckoned me always

estonia i’ve given you all and now i’m nothing
estonia twenty five years
and a thousand pillow-fuls of tears
estonia i love you and i hate you
estonia those feelings pair good
i’ve understood it in your woods
and on your concrete balconies

estonia
you can eat me now

gray faces of people in a bus

gray faces of people in a bus
i look up at them
i look up steering a cabrio
waiting for a green light
and they
look up at me
i mean
not down from the high windows of the bus
but up like i’m flying or something

jesus fucking christ
they know their place
whole life they have been taught
that they are down
under
below the level of worthiness

the soviet rule
stated that communist party leaders are upper class
cowboy capitalism
brought gangsters and businessmen
to the pedestal

now the real business people
bankers and real estate tycoons
stand on a mountain like moses
saying they led us through the sinai desert
and now
it’s time to pay for the services

hey you people in the bus
don’t you believe them
don’t you praise them
communists gangsters and businessmen
came with people

people
you guided yourselves

there was no moses
you chose each other to lead
and you went
and you ended up
in this bus next to my cabrio

people don’t you look up at me
and don’t you look down at me
just
look at me
we are on the same level

like a clean handkerchief

like a clean handkerchief
mist covers thin dirty river zenne
wind is chatting with bushes
and i
see estonia again

by the brussels north station
offices of glass and steel
some prostitutes correct their makeup
and i
see estonia again

crisp sharp sun
of peruvian mountains blinds me
false smile of a tourist hunter
melts in light
and i
see estonia again

i show my passport in tallinn airport
baggage claim like a horn of plenty
bags and bags and bags
dark glass doors open
and estonia
sees me again
and asks
why aren’t you crying
didn’t you miss me

come on honey i did

best europe

best europe
and pest europe
no east no west any more
union without union jack
jack off black out
raise your glasses to twelve golden stars
this is how much you can count up to
twelve golden stars
frozen in the winter sky
separating brussels from universe
pest europe feeding on best europe
which is which
the judge is drunk and cannot tell
a band sings final countdown
on my car radio
and i love europe
i love everybody including
a little girl fainting in the class of
sexual education
including a moroccan boy
wanking off on the back seat of tram
including an italian lady keeping
clandestine factory where romenian girls
make gucci adidas and armani clothes
including a rich irish kid
living on renting out apartments
he bought cheap in budapest
i love you all
you are all my pests
and i am your pest from brussels
i was a pest before
my best before was even announced
no east no west
just best pestern europe
before the best before

a spectre is haunting old europe

a spectre is haunting old europe
the spectre of east

do you hear it children
a beast has been released

like plague
the terrible disease
beast from beastern europe
slips into your factories
washes your clothes
cooks for you and serves you

a spectre
a beast

i am released

old western heroes are dead

old western heroes are dead
or fucked in the ass

leatherstocking tales
have turned into
brokeback mountain

a man standing alone
fighting for his own rights
is employed as a security guard
and drinks away every morning after work

old western heroes are dead
strangled by law order and family values
and the world
is a better place
without them

and all the bad indians
are alive again