Chorus:

Go to sleep
Yah, breath in deep
Turn of your light
Oh darling one
Say good night
And wait till dawn.


I
That's not thunder that you hear,
It's the roaring beast of TV fear,
It's almost here it's getting near,
In female eyes and female tears,
And it's the silent clinking beer,
And the lack of shouting ''cheers!''
So don't you worry.
And that flashing blinding light
Is not lightning shining bright
Its only godless men with all their might
Dropping bombs and flying kites
And gentlemen who have no rights
Wearing tights and fighting fights
And no one's sorry.
There's burning warmth of a burning tree
And your daddy's fighting for he's country.


II
Tomorrow when the sun will raise,
You'll wake up and open thaws eyes,
You'll see sleeping men, who sleep like flies,
And boyish toys of ignoramus size,
And empty men full of empty lies,
Playing a game that has no prize,
But now just rest.
And when that raising sun,
Will report the break of dawn,
Only roosters will sleep on,
And you will know like every one,
That the legless man, oh he can run
And the weeping man is having fun,
Cause we're the best.
Near the fire stands the midget of hypocrisy,
And your daddy's shooting for democracy.


III
You better go on to the place,
Where hansom men have no face,
Where cheaters never loose a race,
Where killers kill without a trace,
Where there is only blood to taste,
While men get tortured with no grace,
By a handless knight.
And there's no candy that you like,
And every body there wears Nike,
And she can die if she's a dike,
And you'll never get a new red bike,
And if you're happy you take a hike,
With a ruthless toothless man named mike,
So say good night.
Cause your nightmares better then realty.
And you daddy's killing for humanity.


IV
And while you dream I can,
Look out your window and,
See a heartless beast a head less man,
People with arms instead of hands,
And open mouths get filled with sand,
While laying stiff on well earned land,
Instead of beds.
The men are packing souls inside a can,
And filthy water is the best brand,
They're out of tune the marshal band,
A plane lifts up but will not land,
And an army car just ran,
Over a bob Dylan fan,
Streets are red.
The fire died the midget's laughing',
.'And your daddy he's a dieing for nothing