To a Husband at War I Hate Myself

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Things are here, and you're over there
And in between: land, sea, everything
I hope you're warm, and I hope you think of me
In Petersburg, the way things used to be

Yesterday, a telegram said that you had died
But I knew, but I know that it was a lie
I tried to laugh but went back to my room and cried
I mean our room, I went back to our room and cried

Retreat, and come back home
Retreat, and come back home
Retreat, and come back home
Retreat, and come back home