I wish the war was on,

I know this sounds strange to you.

I miss the war-time life,

anything could happen then:

around a corner, behind a door.

I miss the canon fire,

I miss the air strikes at night.

Down on the basement floor,

we held each other tight,

it rained plaster, it rained glass,

we held on for our life.

I wish the war was on,

I know this sounds strange to you.

My poor crippled con,

my sad one-legged Jew,

I see what it's done to you.

I wish the war was on,

we really worked together then.

Do you remember when

you held the horse, I slit his throat,

the blood ran, melting the snow?

When the meat was carved

the children screamed

and the women cheered.