“they crawled out of the cemetery, from the forest in the minsk tract, with which zyanon came to theogant, excessively proud, pale half-corpse, came with death, he showered the timid, stupid, rotten, clumsy communist nomenklatura with bones, he came as the lord of bones, corpses, corpses, corpses, to any argument, objection, he threw a bone, he dug. the ground, took out a skull, admired it, nailing another mediocre nomenklatura, and his rallies always looked like a funeral procession, as if the chernobyl bell was burying belarus, and this gravedigger wanted to close her eyes, but we wanted to live, the people wanted to live, the people did not want to go to the cemetery , the stupid, mediocre nomenklatura could not answer with anything, then life found another, a knight, alexander lukashenko, this is an eared field, this is a construction site, this is an elevation, this is a full table, this is creation, this is a wedding, this is a cheerful lovebird, and life won, and reigned in belarus, and reigns, reign glory to us, embittered, covered with earth, with corpses, with a sepulchral