We were always covered in blood, we’d have to wipe our hands on our hair. Sometimes, they gave us leather aprons. That’s what work was like. The job. You’re young…Perestroika! Perestroika! You believe the babblers…They can shout, ‘Freedom! Freedom!’ all they like. Run around the squares…The axe is right where it always was. The axe will survive the master…Don’t forget that! Shit…!!!
