Oh, that your lovely flesh be there for me br a thousand miles I must, on blood-stained boots br hike through the corpses of man's hate for man br and carry only one, an ever-longing thought. br br A bullet on a mission with the sound of scorn br and weaving on its path of wild destruction br flies by me, humming like a goddamn bumblebee br I'm telling blistered feet to be my friends. br br What if, I say with hollow trepidation br another man, yet from another land br has claimed the prize before I stagger home, br it will not leave me and becomes its own obsession. br br And then, a nightingale, sits on the knotted branch br of a tall tree that shows the ravages of war, br and sings the sweetest song that Nature could conceive br she sings for me and tells about my distant love. br br It is enough to hear the sounds of this fine music br new powers penetrate my worn exhausted bones, br time is suspended altogether like a dream br and on the steps up to her door I weakly stumble br to catch the ambience of this thing called Happy End.