Joesphine
Not tonight, Joesphine
In an army's strength, therein lies the denouement
From here you're haunting me
By the Seine so beautiful, only not to be - impossible
So strange, victory - 1,200 spires, the only sound
Moscow burning, empty like the Tuileries
Like a dream Vienna seems only not to be of use - impossible
In the last extremity - to advance or not to advance
I hear you laughing, even still you're calling me
"Not tonight, not tonight, not tonight", Joesphine