"A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic." - Joseph Stalin
Millions looked up to this powerful man of stainless steel
Freedom banned under the "for the common good" seal
Hammer and sickle as an ideal, symbol of hate to others
People without a nickel in their pocket, living in the gutter
Led by a man that doesn't give a shit bout their life styles
He grins at bleeding smiles...deaths are nothing but files
Filled with anonymous names...just words without faces
At his own success he aims by leaving behind no traces
Of the personalities he destroyed, existences shattered
Birds with clipped wings, heads cut off, blood splattered
Over the Russian nation, communism as the foundation
For God’s best creation; somewhere the poor’s salvation
Has been forgotten, it's no longer the people with power
A regime set up to devour dreams, turn the world sour
To kill thousands but remember none, just as one mass
They'll be written down, as mechanisms that didn’t last
They are just things, no men or women, no girls or boys
The society stays deaf, no matter how loud the noise is
As they fight against defeat and find a way to merely be
Ropes tied to their feet but they got sense of being free
Stalin was too eager to let out his anger, they got caged
Into the ideals of a community while a dictatorship raged
For him…no one had an identity, a number at the most
Whether you got killed by a gun or an arsenic overdose
He didn’t care as long as the polluting people were gone
As bodies dropped, he hummed along from dusk till dawn