Where ya gonna run or hide
When what you oppose
Is what it is
At the moment
In the moment, for the moment.
With momentous consequence.
Boris Nemtsov was a good man.
He was aloud man
Prone to opinion and expose.
Mr. Nemtsov stood for the people.
Like the people, he must fall.
There is no room for dialectic in autocracy.
No room for truth in cultural deception.
No room for meaning in subterfuge.
The politics of fear have no quarter.
No checks nor balances.
No limits.
To the depravity, the sadistic self-indulgence.\
To question a despot is to sign ones own death warrant.
To expose an autocrat is to bare oneself
No doubt as to the completion of the conspiracy.
No quarter to those expecting reason or justice.
There are just us
At the centre
No thing else
No thing will stop us
In our blood lust to control
\That which is this
This which was that
Which that was with.
A Kremlin critic is assassinated in the heart of Moscow.
A tree falls in the forest.
No won saw shit, man.
No one even knew they were dispensable in the act.
In the fact
Of the matter.
KGB, secret service, the brown shirts, the men in black.
Of all the dirty ...
So, another critic is silenced
With silence.
With certainty and finality.
With authority.
Putin cannot even lie convincingly.
Nor can he pretend like he didn't order the hit personally.
Detractors are so fuckin' annoying
Especially when you are trying to distract from other atrocities.
On the table, on the fable, on the label.
Of the invasion of the Ukraine.
Of the Olympics.
Of the oligarchical tyranny apparent in Russia's politic.
Like Litvinenko, all abhorrence will be silenced.
Russian love stories always involve intrigue,
Concealment and concierge.
Malevolence and murder.
Polonium is no longer necessary
As the cover of a dumptruck is enough to shield true intent.
From Russia with love.
Shaken not stirred.
