When we were young
we lived in fear: 
the Russians — no, the USSR --
were coming for us.
We held our breath
and cowered under our desks
waiting for the end of the world.
Then the enemy collapsed
which every house of cards must do.
In its place another illusion
a succession of threats and poses
poses and threats
from the man who would be king.

We look, and shake our heads
because the new enemy is
smaller
with even more bluster.
We sit now and sip our wine
or fancy single malt
and discuss the end of the world
even while we wait for it.
No fear, just resignation.
Because everything has changed
and everything is the same.

It never ends well for the Tsar.