Their hearts must of been colder then Siberian climes
When they lodged that icepick axe into your beautiful brain
I read Tolstoy to you by your hospital bedside
Whilst your body held on
For a day
Before Stalin got his wish
You told me how
Bolshevik 'comrades' crushed your glasses
You wanted me to have them
So I could push out the lenses and mould a heart out of the bridge
I would place it just under my bosom
To help Nina sleep soundly
I wish you could see how
St Petersburg still cries for you
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