HUM DEKHENGE
One day the tumbrils will rumble in, past the serfs whose
names you never knew.
Hum dekhenge
The sons of those who died at your coronation will read in
the papers of Yekaterinburg.
Hum dekhenge
The guns, you, Kerensky gave out, will be fired at your own
Mensheviks.
Hum dekhenge
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