The son came to me, the helmet.
He asked with grief:
Classmates, father – what is it?
What a website,
Where the grey people,
with real hand,
Drowned in the wasteland?
Where there is a path to betrayal,
The purpose is clear and the means.
Where they want to return
In Brisbane’s childhood?
Where is their peace broken?
Where do they spend the nights?
This is a website –
Explain to me, Father?"
I brought my son to me.
He said with grief:
"The FSB Database
This is what we are!