Mr. Vladimir

so tell me Mr. Vladimir
is another nasty cold war near
or will it turn hot?
tell us everything you've got!
we know your teeth are black
carrying nuclear codes in a secret Russian sack
sipping potato vodka
with comrade Miss Natasha
not far from the Baltic Sea
you've grown up to be everything you never dreamt you could be
murdering the free press on the evening news
wearing spotless Stalin shoes
never crossing a Moscow street
to grab a quick bite of hot borscht to eat
making lots of bloody money
laughing at things that aren't historically funny;
anyone who feels your famous stare
disappears while you're still standing there
talking on your phone
like a king upon his throne:
you're the man in total charge
with balls not big but overly large.
the boys watching you march in Kremlin hall;
the girls don't swoon, they completely fall:
their red lips signifying socially high class,
praying for a chance to kiss your made-in-Lenigrad ass,
and they feel a rush
before they blush!
so tell me Mr. Vladimir
is another nasty cold war near
or will it turn hot?
tell us everything you've got!