Stalingrad

Tap tap tap, akin it is to rap. She types all day into the morn when with hooray the war is born. It is her duty tap tap tap tap her lover died with crumpled map of Stalingrad his leaders lied the Fuehrer mad there was a booty in foreign lands in snow and ice Siberian sands they paid their price so others could breed more new stock who later would believe again and none would mock those holy words from fragile men who'd send black birds up in the sky hurl dynamite so they could die the final light when fighting Czars God's very own eyes closed by stars.