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I will never hear you in the morning, no
I will never hear your voice again
You will never say that you love the little cakes
That I bake so early in the morning, no
I will never hear it again

She'll never hear him in the evening, no,
She will never hear his voice again
He will never say “It's my favorite time of day,”
When the sun is setting in the evening, no,
She will never hear it again

But I know I'll hear you when it's late at night
And you're sleeping in your room again
You will dream of the faraway wickedness of war
And I'll hear you sobbing after midnight, no,
You will not say “mother” again

No, you won't say “mother” again

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