I was a soul of the foolish society,
And I can tell you this:
My last name, fist and middle
Are known well in KGB.
The whole street fell in love with me,
And the entire Savelovsky Station.
I knew, that people had interest in me,
But still, somehow I disdained.
I was one of the best known thieves,
And all the inmates knew me well,
And one comrade, Inspector Tokarev
Did not sleep nights because of me.
I never suffered harshly in my life
And always had some work to do.
But one day someone found my tracks,
Whispered the rumor and I died.
The sergeant behaved very normally,
And asked me questions all the time.
But I was always nice to him
And I’d timidly answer:
"I never shot, nor stabbed anyone,
I never tested my own fate,
And every night I slept beautifully,
And saw your precinct in the grave".
And my case was not turned down,
And soon the verdict was announced.
They gave me just what I needed,
And the prosecutor added five years.
My lawyer only tried to do his best,
And my temper began to boil,
But the prosecutor was very strict,
And I am sure that he was wrong.
Since then my career became desolate,
I became a lonely subject.
Why should I be a soul of the society,
When it has no soul at all?