His name was "Grandpa",
Crowns on his fingers.
Long live criminal,
Thief in law.
Would he recognize me now,
Would he remember my name?
Now he is probably more then one hundred
And I am not little girl any more.
My grandmother was his special friend.
Thief in law can’t have family, can’t get married.
I am freedom, here and there,
What can be more then freedom and beautiful women?
Make sure you all stay this way.
Long time ago our first strippers were showing me how to walk and how to dress..
Jail guards drove him sick to my grandmother's hospital and said,
You know we wait, he won't make it,
Don't have to drive back and forth,
Was too hot, too far or cold.
You will sign necessary papers and all be okay.
She was telling later, it was nightmare,
What do you mean he will .. here on this bed?
Great grandmother at home was praying,
My grandmother was sitting near his bed day at night holding hand on his chest.
Things worked out, years went by
And I am wearing gold ring made from stolen Siberian mines.
The story is not about justice and crimes.
When I was in school he was living with us for about one year, renting room.
Every week someone would call and bring food in plastic bag,
Mostly young men and sweet women with bright eyeshadow and lips.
Always fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, green onion, smell I cant forget and can food.
When I was moody, he would look at me trough thick glasses and ask,
What's wrong with you?
Like with surprise.
I say, nothing,
Something wrong with her?
And I would always laugh..
