| to each dream its fragrance | |
| to life its dread | |
| to each angst its pain | |
| to each truth its rumour | |
| we have lost our cause | |
| we have drained this fear | |
| with burning glass | |
| with another cheap thrill | |
| its trust regained | |
| its strife remote | |
| so be unkind or be sedated | |
| did tomorrow swear not to spare itself | |
| nor anyone else? | |
| anyone else? | |
| to prepare you, to prepare your mind for the part you must play in this great war? |
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