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.