They said that we were trash,
Well the name is Crass, not Clash.
They can stuff their punk credentials
Cause it’s them that take the cash.
They won’t change nothing with their fashionable talk,
All their RAR badges and their protest walk,
Thousands of white men standing in a park,
Objecting to racism’s like a candle in the dark.
Black man’s got his problems and his way to deal with it,
So don’t fool yourself you’re helping with your white liberal shit.
If you care to take a closer look at the way things really stand,
You’d see we’re all just niggers to the rulers of this land.

To Ottoline Morell

Hotel Continental

Stockholm

25th June 1920

Dearest O

I have got thus far on my return, but boats are very full and it may be a week before I reach England. I left Allen in a nursing home in Reval, no longer in danger, tho' twice he had been given up by the Doctors. Partly owing to his illness, but more because I loathed the Bolsheviks, the time in Russia was infinitely painful to me, in spite of being one of the most interesting things I have ever done. Bolshevism is a close tyrannical bureaucracy, with a spy system more elaborate and terrible than the Tsar's, and an aristocracy as insolent and unfeeling, composed of Americanised Jews. No vestige of liberty remains, in thought or speech or action. I was stifled and oppressed by the weight of the machine as by a cope of lead. Yet I think it is the right government for Russia at this moment. If you ask yourself how Dostoevsky's characters should be governed, you will understand. Yet it is terrible. They are a nation of artists, down to the simplest peasant; the aim of the Bolsheviks is to make them industrial and as Yankee as possible. Imagine yourself governed in every detail by a mixture of Sidney Webb and Rufus Isaacs, and you will have a picture of modern Russia. I went hoping to find the promised land.

All love - I hope I shall see you soon.

Your B.