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In his poem, Monatik plays the term

"My murder is my gift, and your own will help innocent dents": Monatik read a poem about the war

In his poem, Monatik plays the term "special military operation", noting that the operation is necessary for Russian society, since it is "deadly sick. " Pop artist Dmitry Monatik (MONATIK) presented a new poem dedicated to the war against Ukraine at one of the concerts. Network users shared the corresponding video, Focus reports. In his poem, Monatik plays the term "special military operation", which the Kremlin calls a full -scale invasion.

The performer says that the operation is needed by Russian society, because it is "deadly sick", and the Russian authorities continue to destroy Ukrainian cities, despite the fact that almost the whole world is opposed to Moscow. The video was an excerpt from the work of Monatik, which became the basis of a track called "2022", which was included in the new album of the Artist "Art Defense".

Below is the full text of the poem: do you will kill me and watch you quietly as I die? Then you will shout that you do not prove everything that I am attached. That blood is not available, disadvantageously red and I am just a VRU. And I myself are guilty of these unbelievables, and I myself to blame that I die. Here your knives, your remover can not be died. You say so - the Trum is, and the rest is still the route.

And let you cut my garden, and then will you say that I did this? What did I cut them all, and you saved them, we have a brave? You will strike, another blow . . . You think, not sweeping. Then you say - this is my gift, and your help can help innocent trim. And come, do you wipe the whole planet in the volume, what is the whole planet you have? Tabya is true, all your knowledge, and the planets are all over the planets.

And let you again enclose the whole planet, and then you will get back to the city? You had one thing that I asked for an object, but I did not ask for a niche. And come on, if you will put the truth once? You do not reflect, and the surgery will not be wool. True in the fact that you are war and you have a good time, you are deadly feather. The heart of blood is poured, the trash of the seams. Here it will not come to you, we, no prayers.