Sing me a song of merrier times.

Efface the crooks and all their crimes.

With words of the past of a war-torn child

Before being orphaned, vilely exiled.

Indite for me words for lushes of green

A city of dreams, both chaste and clean.

Tune this song about the brave martyr,

Died for his country, without doubt or fear.

Sing me this song that speaks half-truth.

Briefly allow my battle wounds to soothe.

I'll imbibe this tune and ignore my scars,

For tomorrow I must awaken and face my wars.