Son of Man, who are you?
Tell me once more
Tell me straight, who we've become
Tell me truthfully, where we are now
You know I thought it would be fair
A slik scarf on your helm
But this is a battle behind closed doors
A fight for your life with goodness only knows what
And somepone thinks it's a trap,
And somone screams it's failed
ANd every word show that we're in
The mirrorless room
Last night I dreamt I saw an Angel
Who looked just like Bruce Lee
He brought me a potion to clear my mind
A gill of port for the landlords
But I was bright and wise
I took this chalice seriously
And I perished trying to answer
A question that no one had asked me
And my friend Lensky at the beer kiosk
Was whining that a quart was too small
And with one voice the queue recited a poem
About the mirrorless room
We were all lovingly taught
To look forward rather than up
But love fires both barrels
As soon as you get off the ground
And what doe sit mean to be carried away
With one of these noble maidens
Who will feather your back
And make you look like a bird
But if I were you, I'd send them all
To record a scene about the first ball
And I'd chuckle through the window.
Of the mirrorless room
If you're black, you have rhythm
If you're white, you have guilt
But there's another kind who lack any distinguishing mark
Who stare at women lower than they should
But I was left out
I only saw it from afar
I find it odd to be the lover of the muses
Neutered as they have been by the ways of war
In which the survivor was the one who had already died
And the winner was he who stayed down
And only the heroes grind off their make up
From the mirrorless room
These are two suitable things
For those above zero to do
Trading in bald picture postcards
Or the wild cry: "Out of my way!"
So I was left for dead
My end was decided
But I wish to thank all who shot me
Now I know what lead is
And someone cackles like the Silver Beast
Looking at a crowded hall
And I'm just here, dreaming happily
About the mirrorless room.
I have given up trying to be poetic, You know what happenes when you have to shelter your copy of Teksty XX veka from a toddler.
There are mistakes, but it's at least a start