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.