Leningrad

Viktor was born in the spring of ’44And never saw his father anymoreA child of sacrifice, a child of warAnother son who never had a father after Leningrad

Went off to school and learned to serve the stateFollowed the rules and drank his vodka straightThe only way to live was drown the hateA Russian life was very sadAnd such was life in Leningrad

I was born in ’49A cold war kid in McCarthy timeStop ’em all at the 38th ParallelBlast those yellow reds to hellAnd cold war kids were hard to killUnder their desks in an air raid drillHaven’t they heard we won the warWhat do they keep on fighting for?

Viktor was sent to some Red Army townServed out his time, became a circus clownThe greatest happiness he’d ever foundWas making Russian children gladAnd children lived in Leningrad

But children lived in LevittownAnd hid in the shelters undergroundUntil the Soviets turned their ships aroundAnd tore the Cuban missiles downAnd in that bright October sunWe knew our childhood days were doneAnd I watched my friends go off to warWhat do they keep on fighting for?

And so my child and I came to this placeTo meet him eye to eye and face to faceHe made my daughter laugh, then we embracedWe never knew what friends we hadUntil we came to Leningrad