I was the soul of a base society,
And I can surely tell you true,
My first, middle, and last name
To the KGB were all but new.

I raised eyebrows on the streets,
In the train station and trams
I aroused intrigue there, too;
But all in all, I could care less.

I was myself among the crooks and thieves,
With pickers and cons, I felt at home,
So Citizen commandant Tokaryev,
Slept not a wink on my account.

Not once in life did I complain or squeal,   
I was never lacking an ordeal,
‘Til someone got pissed and bitched, lashed out,
Ratted.. snitched - and I was caught.

The commandant wasn’t overly precise,
Though he did call me in for questioning,
But I was, as always, forthcoming,
Polite and prudent in response.

I wouldn’t take the blame for the deceased,
And I didn’t try to test my fate,
No, I, Commandant, slept at night in peace,
And saw your whole unit in its grave.

So my case didn’t get overlooked,
And my sentence was announced,
They gave me time by the books,
Plus five - when the prosecution pounced.

My attorney wanted, in all honesty,
To show my carefree witty side, but
The prosecutor asked for all severity,
Which was, in my opinion, out of line.

Since then, I’ve lost my creative spark,
I’ve become a bore of a subject.
Why be the soul of a society,
When it has absolutely no soul left.