made my way out of the hinterlands of siberia
walking across mother russia barefoot wanderer
playing my bailastroika in the snow
sold it to some peasant in exchange for a sturdy pair of black boots
a little food—a place to sleep in the barn
making my way across the great plains
which in all honesty has never been that great
famine in the back pockets of the overalls
like some kind of crazed holy man here I stalk
black beads around my neck--cross o’ gold
I can cure I can heal you must believe
wild frenetic look in my eyes staring a hole in you
scaring people away who don’t understand my magic
attracting women who fall under my power they can’t look away
I can help you my friend now down on your knees and pray
I know what’s best for everyone especially myself
drinking and women and influence
but this isn’t my little confession, it’s a point of fact
I show my good friends in the okhrana watching me a good time
the women come and go all hours of the day
my psychic powers and other powers all powerful
visions come to me I see I see I see
I don’t always know what I see
bottle of vodka always close by me
play the music comrade I wanna do my dance
late into the night HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!
