watching clips of conflicts old

i see a story to unfold

the creases of the papers keep

the facing sides to make ends meet

one side, it longs to live it up

and drink vodka from a plastic cup

and never lower any tone

while in a group, never alone

and party like no other would

while children only wish they could

but immortality runs high

until here comes the other side

side two stands firm to end the night

the party’s over, falcon cries

with notebook handy to give fines

for stepping in between the lines

and arguments in broken speak

cause comments snide to go and leak

and tension ever runs so round

to keep from paying 50 crowns

one side just wants to party hard

and get school credit from afar

the other side just does the job

he’s given, it’s not really odd

one side thinks falcon is a prat

yet seems to cause the little spats

sometimes forgetting others in

the state of drunkeness worn thin

i once was part of that wild crew

i scratch my head for thoughts anew

why did I say “you fascist you”

to someone who, to his work, is true?

i had it coming, i’ll admit

a little snot and full of sh$t

but when I saw the tsar Roman

I left the party quick and ran….