Original subtitles

Red Arrow Productions

Supported by the Russian Federation Culture Ministry

Presents

a text by Ivan Vyrypaev

O X Y G E N

Producers: Vadim Gorainov, Leonid Lebedev, Valery Todorovsky

'Ded Moroz' Studio

Written and Directed by Ivan Vyrypaev

Director of Photography Andrei Naidyonov

Editor Pavel Khaniutin

Sound Design by Roman Khokhlov

Music produced by Alexander Lukshin

Sound Producer Andrei Samsonov

KAROLINA GRUSZKA ALEXEl FILIMONOV

Track 1 Dancing

Have you heard the Bible: 'Thou shalt not kill.

'He who kills shall be judged'?

I knew a guy with bad hearing.

He didn't hear 'thou shalt not kill. '

Maybe because he had headphones on.

He didn't hear 'thou shalt not kill. '

He took a spade,

went into his yard and killed someone.

He came back, turned up the music and danced.

The music was so funny his dancing turned funny.

His shoulders went funny and his feet,

and his hair, and his eyes.

The dancing lured him into a new land.

That land had nothing but movement,

only dancing and more dancing.

He decided to stay there for good.

He decided not to spend another minute

without dancing.

Every person has two inner dancers:

One left and one right.

Two lunging dancers. Two lungs.

The right lung and the left.

Every person has two dancers - his right and left lung.

The lungs dance and the person gets oxygen.

If you take a spade and hit the chest area,

the lungs stop dancing; the oxygen stops.

This guy knew all about dancing but he had bad hearing.

He was dancing when his friends came by.

He did not hear them screaming,

'Sanyok, you butchered your wife.

Have you lost it, shithead? '

But Sanyok didn't hear his friend

through the headphones.

Then his friend punched him in the face,

in the stomach and the chest.

The chest dancers stopped

and Sanyok fell down, gasping for oxygen.

Every person has two dancers:

One left and one right.

Two lunging dancers.

The right lung and the left.

Every person has two dancers - his right and left lung.

The lungs dance and the person gets oxygen.

If you take a spade and hit the chest area,

the lungs stop dancing; the oxygen stops.

Sanyok gasped for oxygen

until he felt his chest dancers move again.

He asked his friends, 'What do you want? '

Then his friend who punched him

asked again about the butchered wife in the yard.

And when Sanyok understood,

he said he whacked her with a spade

because he fell in love with another woman.

His wife had black hair. The other was a redhead.

The girl with black hair

and fat fingers had no oxygen.

The girl with red hair, thin fingers

and the man's name Sasha, did.

When Sanyok realized his wife was not oxygen,

and the girl named Sasha was,

and when he realized no one can live without it,

he took the spade

and cut off the dancers legs in his wife's chest.

Every person has two dancers:

One left and one right.

Two lunging dancers. The right lung and the left.

Every person has two dancers - his right and left lung.

The lungs dance and the person gets oxygen.

If you take a spade and hit the chest area,

the lungs stop dancing; the oxygen stops.

Every woman contains two dancers

and every woman consumes oxygen,

but not every woman is oxygen herself.

When mankind was told 'thou shalt not kill,'

there wasn't enough oxygen for everyone.

Some small-town Sanyok will always

want to dance, and will take a spade

and kill his non-oxygen wife

so his lungs can breathe freely.

Because when it was said 'thou shalt not kill,'

he had his headphones on

and dancers lured him into the land of dancing and oxygen.

Whosoever sayeth unto his brother 'Raca-you're dead meat,'

he shall be judged. But whosoever sayeth 'You fool,'

shall be in danger of hell fire.

Track 2 Sasha loves Sasha

Have you heard this?: 'Thou shalt not commit adultery';

and 'Whosoever lusteth after a wife

hath committed adultery in his heart. '

Imagine how big a man's heart must be

to embrace all the wives he has lusted after.

That's no heart,

but a double bed with sheets soaked in semen.

My small-town friend Sasha committed adultery in his heart

with the city girl Sasha,

whom he first saw by a statue on the square

as she smoked dope with her friends.

It is said, 'Thou shalt not look at a woman with lust. '

This means: Do not commit adultery in your heart.

Those gazing at women with lust

have their hearts locked with a padlock.

He who lusts strives not to fulfill a woman

but to empty himself.

When my small-town friend, Sanyok,

with the oxygen dancers in his chest,

saw redheaded Sasha,

he wanted her so badly

his heart turned into a double bed with white linen.

When he saw Sasha barefoot,

he experienced an oxygen overdose,

for an oxygen overdose happens to those

suffering from oxygen famine.

It is said, 'Thou shalt not look at a woman with lust. '

This means do not commit adultery in your heart.

Those looking at women with lust

have their hearts locked with a padlock.

He who lusts strives not to fulfill a woman

but to empty himself.

Oxygen famine strikes those

who breathe oxygen-poor air for years,

who breathe women smelling of sweat

and cheap perfume.

If you don't have money for perfume,

you can always afford soap and organic shampoo.

If you don't have a fancy outfit,

you can make a sundress yourself.

If you follow fashion magazines

and don't realize that fashion reflects your inner world,

then perfume and soap and sundresses

will not fill the air with oxygen.

Every man standing next to you

will experience oxygen famine.

Sasha was entirely made of oxygen.

She wore a linen dress, carried a bag

wore string-sandals and had big green eyes.

She had expensive sunglasses and red hair.

When you see a girl like that,

you know this is 'oxygen. '

When you stand beside her,

you smell expensive perfume,

soap and organic shampoo.

It is said, 'Thou shalt not look at a woman with lust. '

This means do not commit adultery in your heart.

Those looking at women with lust

have their hearts locked with a padlock.

He who lusts strives not to fulfill a woman

but to empty himself.

'Lf thy right eye offend thee,

pluck it out, and cast it from thee.

Better that one of thy members perish,

than all thy body be cast to hell.

If thy right hand offend thee,

cut it off and cast it from thee. '

For this reason, when small-town Sanyok

looked at his wife not with love but with lust,

he hit her on the chest with a spade

and stopped the dancing in her lungs.

He cut out her eye and cut off her hand,

for better that her 'members should perish'

than subject her Body to fiery hell.

Track 3 Yeah and Nay

Have you heard: 'Swear not by heaven,

for it is God's seat;

nor by earth, for it is his footstool;

neither by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the King. '

I do not know the King ofJerusalem today.

Maybe there is no such person,

no one to bring order.

But I know I shall not swear upon the city

where people explode like watermelons in buses

and on squares under the blazing sun.

But yea, this girl with the man's name of Sasha,

she swore by heaven twice and once by earth.

First she swore when a stranger kissed her

right in the middle of the street -

not on the cheek,

nor the lips, nor the forehead,

nor the ear, nor the neck,

nor the shoulders, the chest,

the back, the hips,

the ass, a leg -

none of these places I named,

but he kissed her right on the street in the middle of day.

She swore by heaven

not even a good joint

could hit her as hard

as this scandalous kiss.

The second time she swore by heaven

when her strikingly handsome husband asked:

'Are you cheating on me

with a small-town shithead? '

And she said: 'I swear to God, no. '

She swore by earth

when she vomited for the first time in her life

from the vodka and dumplings

she ate with friends of the guy

with whom she cheated on her husband.

Never had she eaten anything like that.

Right then she swore by the earth

upon which she vomited,

never again to eat such deadly Russian food,

lacking all oxygen,

filled with the nausea and pompous pride of great empires.

Better to smoke a joint, eat apples and drink juice

than fall over drunk next to a TV set,

swearing by heaven, earth and Jerusalem

that you were seduced by TV commercials,

instilling in your mind what you must buy

in order to gain the right to live on this earth.

And so, to have the right to live on this earth...

one must learn to breathe air and have money to buy that air

since once you get hooked on oxygen,

no money or drugs or even death

will replace the hunger for beauty and freedom

you gain through it.

My big-city friend Sasha

only twice swore by heaven and once by the earth

but she swore her love many times.

She had a big heart like a double bed

with a fancy fruit and flower print.

And every time she slept with a new guy,

not counting her husband,

,

these extra-marital encounters were not random for her.

She experienced love in every one.

Every time she was alone with a man

and listened to his thoughts on love,

her head filled with words like his.

The city-girl Sasha never spoke them aloud,

but expressed her feelings through a smile,

a turn of the head or a mischievous wink.

My friend Sasha

always acted like an actress in a movie about love.

Only these relationships between a man and a woman

contain oxygen.

If you swear love and allegiance and feel nothing,

that's no oxygen film, that's dog shit.

If you love but don't swear by it, that's like German porno.

If you sleep with many men but only love one,

that's like true Russian cinema

with birch trees and rolling fields.

Better smoke a joint, eat apples and drink juice

than fall over drunk next to a TV set,

swearing by heaven, earth and Jerusalem

that your heart belongs to one person

and your body to another.

What then is left to swear by?

Not by God's seat, nor his footstool,

and definitely not Jerusalem,

where people have gone mad from stupidity,

but only by your own love.

'May your words be, yea, yea: Nay, nay.

For anything more than that

cometh of evil. '

Track 4 Moscow Rum

Have you heard, 'Resist not wrong.

But whosoever strike thee on thy cheek,

turn him the other.

And if a man sue thee and take thy coat,

give him thy cloak also. '

With no regard to the law,

the girl I'm talking about threw her clothes off

when a man she liked gave her Moscow Rum and Coke,

and offered him a big, fancy double bed.

But when one man struck her on the cheek,

she refused to offer the left.

She went to his kitchen

where she took a knife

and returned to the bedroom

to stab him in the face.

The man caught her arm

and slapped her on the other cheek.

He smacked her so hard

that her nose bled

as if a fresh stream ran,

a red spring stream

in the middle of winter.

In the dead of winter they took the train to Serpukhov.

Peddlers were selling papers,

batteries and pens.

They went to Serpukhov, the hometown of Sanyok,

where people fall down drunk in the middle of the day.

Where streets and houses are full of youths

sticking needles in their veins.

They wanted to dance where this guy danced

before he butchered his wife with a spade.

None spoke of this to the police.

No one had any idea,

especially our girl Sasha,

who had inspired this deed.

His wife, the woman with black hair,

now slept in the Serpukhov earth.

Oxygen was of no use to her now.

When this girl Sasha stepped off the train,

she immediately sized the town up.

Later she made a snowman in the yard

and listened to music with headphones on.

When Sanyok from Serpukhov visited Moscow,

he saw snobs and heard accents,

and knew there were not enough spades

or earth to handle this swarming mass,

suffocating without oxygen under the ozone-aerosol void.

No fancy glasses will help you see

self-respect in a drunken girl

wearing black shoes and white socks.

Those punks squatting near the liquor store

will never make a worthy generation of young men.

When she walked in her European dress

down the town streets

where movies are made about the Revolution

because this place is frozen in time,

even the dogs are ashamed of their small-town coats.

Fleas on dogs from Moscow and Serpukhov

have different ancestors.

Moscow fleas bit the dog of Stanislavsky.

But Serpukhov fleas

bit Uncle Sergei's bitch.

Sergei ate those fleas

as a homeopathic remedy

for tuberculosis.

If you want to say which is best,

then you must solve the issue

of the greatest city on earth - Jerusalem.

Then you go back to the trivial,

like which country you prefer, Moscow or Russia.

For if a single Jew drives a tank across the river

where John did his baptizing,

then anyone, even those lacking superstition,

know explosions will follow in otherJewish towns.

That is as true as martins flying

low to the ground before rainstorms.

That is as true as town dwellers

believing themselves inferior

because the Moscow flea gives him no peace,

and an unknown power makes him tuck his sweater in his pants.

I think your Sasha should go fuck herself.

I think your Sasha should go fuck himself.

'May ye be the children of your heavenly Father:

For he maketh the sun rise on evil and good. '

'And sendeth rain on the just and unjust.

For if ye love them which love you: What reward shall ye have? '

None.

Absolutely none.

How do I feel about drugs?

I have a great story...

I was with a friend in the United Emirates.

Snorting heroin, so to speak...

I snorted heroin, ripped up my passport

and went to the Arab market.

I don't speak Arabic, so there was no way back.

You have heard it said:

'Take heed that ye do not your alms before men,

to be seen of them.

When thou doest thine alms,

sound not a trumpet before thee,

as hypocrites do in the synagogues and streets

that they may have glory of men. '

When the city girl Sasha gave alms

to small-town Sanyok from Serpukhov,

this happened not on the street

and certainly in no synagogue,

but under the sheets

in a dark room

behind closed doors.

And when, in return,

Sanyok from Serpukhov

gave his alms to Sasha from Moscow,

these were the best moments of her life

for when she received such alms from her husband,

the handsome brunet from a theater school,

he did it with an expression on his face

as if it all was transpiring on a busy street

or in a synagogue at Passover

rather than under the colorful sheets of a bed.

When Alexander gave alms to Alexandra for the first time,

only then did he see in her eyes

that she visited him just for such alms.

For the receiving of alms

from men was her favorite hobby.

Track 5 Arab World

'Love' and 'insanity' are as different

as the religious consciousness

of an Iraqi Muslim

and an American Jew.

The sight of a fat woman in pants

stuffing her face with hotdogs

is as revolting to a Muslim

as it was for David Hoffermann

to find a woman's hair

on his windowsill on September 11,

after the owner of this hair,

a blonde fat woman

who wore pants,

was sent to Muslim hell

because she had undigested pork

in her stomach.

If we follow this logic

and compare 'insanity' with pork, and 'love' with Jihad,

then the spade

which sliced open the head of an ugly woman

equals the sword of Allah,

punishing wrongdoers

for consuming pork,

and is not a garden tool

for digging potatoes

or eliminating unwanted wives.

In fact,

everything in the world

stems from two things:

Insane love,

that is, a love of such power

it makes a person insane;

From two things:

Insane love

and a hunger for air.

In fact love and suffocation

are one and the same thing.

If you don't understand that

then don't utter words

like

'Islam'

and 'New York. '

For only 'insane love'

can justify 'insane hatred'

and vice versa.

There is just one step between love and hate.

For love of God Islamic extremists

fly planes into buildings,

take children hostage

and kill the unholy.

They do it for the love of Allah.

And only for the love of God

do Jews bomb peaceful Arab settlements

and do Christians hang

the leaders of non-Christian states

who are infamy

to Christ Almighty.

'We only kill the ones we love' -

that should be inscribed

in ornate Arabic letters

on the Shahid belts

ofJihad warriors.

In order to say something that grabs you...

I'll tell you the truth.

The problem is not that

the poor Arabs are locked in a no-win situation

and that Jewish children are not to blame for this.

And it's not because

you can be thrown in a Russian prison

for five years for possessing a handful of weed,

when for vodka, which has destroyed a nation

and makes men hit their pregnant wives in the stomach,

you spend the night in detox and go home a hero.

The real problem is

that you do not know how to love people.

The true lie is that you know nothing

about some Sanyok from Serpukhov.

You couldn't care less how he lives and who he might kill,

but you will cry your eyes out,

telling the story of someone else's life.

You'll suffer over something that just doesn't exist.

That is the problem.

And that is truly your problem.

Artistically-minded people

only contemplate their own problems.

I would never believe you if you say

you can't sleep at night

because a Moscow bum is freezing to death.

That's a lie!

It's a lie that you snorted heroin

and wandered around a market in the Arab Emirates.

It's a lie. You never were there.

You would never snort heroin,

because your friends know how rational you are.

You're only good for staying

in your room with the lights off,

listening to Radiohead for the thousandth time,

jerking off and imagining yourself

in white robes at an Arab market.

Track 7 Amnesia

It was said: 'Judge not, lest ye be judged. '

That was said to justify memory loss.

In other words,

if someone loses a loved one to a gunshot to the head,

they can only 'judge not' him who did the shooting

if they forget the killer exists.

Forget guns, killers and loved ones.

Don't pretend you forgot - forget for real,

induce clinical amnesia in your brain.

Transform your brain into:

'I remember nothing. ' And that's that.

'Judge not, lest ye be judged. '

Forget those who murdered you

and those you murdered.

I remember nothing and no one.

Who murdered me? I don't remember.

Did I kill? I don't remember.

I remember nothing and no one. And that's that.

In some ancient tongue,

'to judge' means to 'forget'

but I don't recall what tongue that is.

'Judge not' means 'see not. '

But I don't recall which translation that is.

If I am asked, 'What did you try so hard to say? '

I shall answer, 'I don't recall - I have amnesia. '

If I am asked, 'What did you wish to say? '

I shall answer, 'I don't know what you ask. '

'I don't know what you ask. '

If I hear,

'Who is this redhead with thin, pale fingers?

Did you say she was 'Oxygen'?

I shall answer, 'I don't know her or what she wants.

That girl died two years ago

after riding the smallest Ferris Wheel in the world. '

If you want my opinion of Sasha from Moscow,

I will quote one of the gods:

'Let the dead bury their dead. '

If I am asked,

'Who butchered his wife in the yard? '

And what happened to him? '

I won't answer. I couldn't care less.

That guy died two years ago

for it was August,

and August is the deadliest month.

When I asked my friend,

'Where is the greatest Ferris Wheel on earth? '

She said 'I don't know. '

I said it must be in London

and that's as true as the fact

that I rode one myself with friends.

When I asked my friend,

'Where on earth is the Valley of Death? '

He said 'I don't know. '

I said, it's in Kazakhstan

and that is as true as the fact

that I flew over that country in a chopper myself.

When my friend asked,

'Where is

the smallest Ferris Wheel on earth? '

I answered, 'I don't know. '

She said it was in her hand

and showed me a tiny pill in her palm.

Then she swallowed it.

When my friend asked,

'Where on earth is another Valley of Death? '

I answered, 'I don't know. '

He said 'It's here in a field of wormwood'

and he ran into the field.

But he was allergic to wormwood,

and he had asthma,

so he didn't make it halfway through the field.

He fell, the dancers fell still in his chest,

and he fell into an eternal allergic sleep.

Because the pill had a high content of psychotropic drugs,

and because my friend's health

wouldn't let her play with such things,

she fell on the ground,

her chest dancers fell still

and she fell into eternal psychotropic sleep,

as if she fell off the smallest Ferris Wheel.

When everyone wants to talk about friends

who died in a wormwood field,

they talk about their love of small-town Sanyok.

When they want to talk about a girl who overdosed,

they talk about the big-city girl Sasha.

When people ask, 'Who is he to you? '

You say, 'I forget,' so as not to judge.

When they ask, 'Why did you forget everything? '

You tell them the truth for the first time.

Because I have -

Amnesia.

Track 8 Fourth Day

'There are six days when you may work,

but the seventh day is a Sabbath of rest to the LORD.'

Today my Lord will be left with nothing.

No one will think of the Lord today

for today is Thursday, not Saturday.

Let God wait a few more days,

today is Thursday, tomorrow - Friday.

The day after tomorrow will be God's day.

The day after tomorrow is God's day

but today is a regular day - Thursday.

There's no room for God in the middle of the week.

Today is Thursday,

there are two days left to God.

We'll have to wait a little longer.

For tomorrow is Friday and God is only for Saturdays.

God is only for weekends, for days off.

During the week we don't worship him.

On Thursdays we don't turn to God.

We learned that long ago.

All week long we work without God.

On Saturday we rest and God rests among us.

Only Saturday has meaning

and there is no meaning outside Saturday.

Only Saturday in relation to Thursday has meaning.

Without this, meaning makes no sense.

Meaning loses meaning when you say

aloud what you really mean to say.

Meaning loses meaning if you write

what you truly want to write.

Meaning loses meaning when you evaluate a situation.

Looking for meaning in meaning

is rude and uncultured.

- Culture lacks any meaning. - As does art.

- Only the vulgar don't get that. - Or criminals.

- Or both. - Only Saturday has meaning.

There is no meaning outside of Saturday.

Saturday in relation to Thursday.

Only Saturday has meaning

There is no meaning outside of Saturday.

Saturday in relation to Thursday?

Track 9 The Essence ofThings

'Gather ye no treasure upon the earth

where rust and moths corrupt,

and thieves break in and steal. '

'But gather ye treasure in heaven

where neither rust nor moths corrupt,

and thieves neither break in nor steal. '

The heavens are the essence,

for people cross heavens on airplanes

from country to country.

Airplanes are essential,

for when they fall from the sky

they fulfill ancient prophecies.

People are essential

for their deeds bring the end of the earth nearer.

The earth is essential,

for the bodies of war victims are buried in it.

War is essential,

for without it, men would not be fit.

Women would not make themselves look pretty,

to make men shatter each other's skulls with guns.

Guns are essential for

for they keep the death toll steady.

The dead, especially, are essential

for the construction of new war memorials

and other works of art made in their honor.

Honor is essential,

it makes men throw themselves on knives

and women terminate sons in their wombs.

Sons are essential. And daughters too, of course.

Children serve the essence of things.

That's why they enter this world.

Kindergarten and the lessons they skip -

it's all essential.

The money they steal from their parents,

their first cigarettes,

and breaking into someone's house for the first time

it is all in the essence of things.

The essence of things is scientists making discoveries

and criminals robbing a store.

Essence is in the hands of musicians playing Mozart

and philatelists collecting stamps.

The essence of things

is in Michelangelo and graffiti on walls.

For it you hate your parents

and slap your child on the face.

For essences

you throw cigarette butts into flower pots

and drink up the money for your son's new bike.

You don't have children for that reason.

- You shoot a cat. - You love, you hate, you kill

only for the essence of things.

You accuse, you gossip and torture

for the same great thing.

- Why else would you do it? - You shoot heroin

and buy tickets to concerts of Bach

and help a blind man cross the street.

All for that main essential thing.

You give alms to the poor, you follow politics

and you slit your wrists for it.

You speak on behalf of the essence of things

- and you can't stop talking. - For the essence of things

you stop and ask the essential question.

Stop.

What is most important for you?

You go first.

It sounds crass, you go first.

Same for me. You start, I'll finish.

In school you probably played doctor with a girl.

Yes, and you?

'Advertisement'

My girl was good all week.

She was doing big things.

Now comes her reward.

Mushrooms from Leningrad -

My favorite thing.

Mushrooms from Leningrad, yeah, yeah...

The express train comes in Monday.

My friend won't bring us booze,

he doesn't smoke or drink

but is a computer nerd.

His mushrooms will blow your mind.

You missed a good film Tuesday.

The film was pretty shitty,

but I was flying high.

Oh man, how I love mushrooms!

'Dried Mushrooms from St. Petersburg. '

- So what's essential for you? - Same as for you.

I'm leaving if you say 'Oxygen. '

Don't think I'm dumber than you.

- Then what is it? - You first.

It's crass and embarrassing.

- You go first. - Same for me.

You start and I'll finish.

In school you probably played doctor

- with a girl. - Yes, and you?

- Conscience. - It's the same for me.

- Conscience. - Same for me.

- Conscience. - Same for me.

Track 10 Where Would I Be

Where would I be

if a nurse didn't smack me when I was born,

and make me gasp oxygen

from pain and surprise?

Where would I be?

Where would I be if they didn't pull me

from my mother's sliced womb? Where would I be?

Where would I be if my mother didn't sleep with my father

on the hospital bed where he lay with pneumonia

and she worked as a nurse. Where would I be?

Where I would be

if my mom didn't work as a nurse and my father

didn't wear a scarf in the spring.

Where would I be?

How strange if mother and father didn't exist.

Where would I be?

How strange...

Where would I be if I did not exist?

Very strange...

I don't know. I really don't know.

But without my mother and father

I would have been in prison by thirty.

That's right,

I am sure of that!

It's very strange.

If I weren't here, where would I be?

What would it be like? That better place?

Maybe with those who were not here before?

Maybe among those who aren't here yet?

Those who haven't breathed oxygen yet,

who have not hated their parents, never had an abortion,

never went on strike, or blasphemed?

Maybe I would've been happy there,

in a place without oxygen famine,

where water is not sold in plastic bottles?

Where no aerosol cloud hangs over the sky.

Where ice does not melt on end

and turf bogs do not burn

and choke our lungs,

lungs created by God

to take in oxygen.

It has been said: 'By their fruits shall ye know the trees. '

Then what can I say about the tree called 'God? '

If it were written, 'A corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit' -

- what does this mean? - I am a fruit of this tree,

and by me people shall know if the tree is corrupt.

This fruit shall be judged by the tree.

Look at me; I am the fruit of a heavenly tree.

A heavenly tree brings forth heavenly fruit.

Yesterday I was at a party with a girl

and you know what I did to her?

The tree called 'God' is heavenly.

I am the fruit. People shall know the tree by me.

A corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.

The fruit it will bring shall be heavenly too.

Fruit such as I comes from a tree such as I

'Ye shall know them by their fruits. '

Fruit contains 'oxygen':

Not the O2 that fills the tanks of sea divers

but the oxygen we have talked about here.

My God is terrible if I am the fruit of the tree

and people will know it by me.

Oxygen, without which angels and saints

never take a step.

That is why I say to Him: 'For the love of God,

forgive me and don't take my breath.

I have asthma, but to hell with that! '

All of creation breathes oxygen...

I only ask that the oxygen flow not be cut.

Earth's intricate, controversial life

was created for oxygen.

It would be good to breath oxygen after death

and not the stale shit you inhale at the visa office.

'Ye shall know them by their fruits. '

Bonus Track 6

Translated by Yana Ross Subtitles by John Freedman