Good night, mister president.
Sleep well in your nice white house.
Don't think too much about far-away shores
where your boys are, lonely, far from home.
Don't think about those forty-six dead,
that mistake recently with bombarding.
And forget the fourth of the ten commandments
you must remember them as a good Christian.
Don't think about all the young front-soldiers
dying lonely in the distant tropical night.
Just let those weak pacifists talk,
mister president, sleep well.
Dream now of victory and of triumph,
dream about your nice ideas for peace
that never shall be achieved by blood,
just dream you'll get there now.
Don't think 'bout all those poor people,
how many women, how many children perished.
Just dream you will win this time
and don't believe your opponents.
Bayonets with bloody handles
en guarde far away at your command
for glory and honour of the free West.
Mister president, sleep well.
Do not get scared when in your dreams
you see all those innocent victims
casualties there of the fighting
and ask you how much longer still.
You should maybe know by now
that people are sick of violence,
who don't forget blood and misery
and for whom a human life still counts.
Don't dream too much about all those dead,
dream of victory and power.
Don't think about wishes for peace.
Mister president, sleep well...
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