I am KROU , ART victory.

No matter what I say about myself —
a saint, a prophet, a lost son,
a drunken philosopher beneath church domes,
or a clown with pockets full of stolen flowers —
I will still remain the same man
who speaks at night with his own filth
and recognizes his face inside it.

Here I stand among old icons,
between vodka, war, and sunflowers,
between children’s cartoons and the faces of people
already crushed by history.
I wear чужие masks,
foreign slogans,
borrowed songs about salvation.
But inside there is still the same person
who fears silence more than screaming.

I gather the world like a trash collage:
scraps of revolutions,
photographs of dead eras,
butterflies glued to the sticky memory of time,
and yellow flowers
like the sun has already begun rotting at the edges.

And nearby — another world.
There a funny red creature
holds bread in its paws
like the final proof of love.
There a paper girl dances
in the middle of black-and-white history,
as if trying to convince war
not to enter this house.

But no matter how much you smile,
no matter how deeply you hide your heart
behind jokes, rock and roll, bottles, and pictures —
the truth still seeps through
like dampness through an old wall.

Because a person
is not what they say about themselves.
A person is the trace
they leave behind
inside another soul.

And maybe I truly am a bastard.
Maybe a broken mechanism
that makes more noise than meaning.
But even a rusty nail
sometimes keeps an entire house
from collapsing into darkness.

And so I continue gluing together
these strange worlds
from pain, laughter, ashes, and flowers —
as if trying to prove to myself
that even a ruined person
still has the right
to create beauty.

Видео I am KROU , ART victory. канала Art TV Sound