I wish good rest too you
and I'll see you when the sky turns blue.

During your dreams, the soldiers will come,
marching on down the line;
and the war will never be won.

The women and children will beg in the streets,
starving and dying with forsaken minds,
but none of them will you meet.

You'll survive, my dear, as you sleep,
and you'll hear not even a cry.
Tonight, you will have no reason to weep.

Tomorrow when you will be well-rested,
my skills are those that will have been tested.