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| ALL rights reserved. Viktor was born in the spring of '44 and never saw his father anymore. A child of sacrifice a child of war. Another son who never had a father after Leningrad. Went off to school and learned to serve the state. Followed the rules and drank his vodka straight. The only way to live was drown the hate. A Russian life was very sad and such was life in Leningrad I was born in '49 a cold war kid in McCarthy time. Stop 'em at the 38th Parallel blast those yellow reds to hell. Cold war kids were hard to kill under their desk in an air raid drill. Haven't they heard we won the war? What do they keep on fighting for? Viktor was sent to some Red Army town. Served out his time became a circus clown. The greatest happiness he'd ever found was making Russian children glad and children lived in Leningrad. Children lived in Levitown hid in the shelters underground till the Soviets turned their ships around tore the Cuban missiles down. And in that bright October sun we knew our childhood days were done and I watched my friends go off to war. What do they keep on fighting for? And so my child and I came to this place to meet him eye to eye and face to face. He made my daughter laugh then we embraced. We never knew what friends we had until we came to Leningrad. |
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