Sleep, son, sleep. Close your eyes, close two blue flowers bitterly,
once they'll be gray like tin, breath'll smell of tobacco and kiss'll be bitterly.
[: at the turn of the century in your armful will soft your first or fifth,
before anyone could see, wounds'll heal and you will be like your dad :]
Sleep, son, sleep. Close your eyes, mummy will wash diapers,
you'll grow up on Sunar, then sit at the bar with kinda different glass.
[: and when bad times arrive, they'll draft and give you a gun instead of chisel,
booze instead of hugs will teach you to back and you will be like your dad :]
Sleep, son, sleep. Need ate whole pantry and poverty inhabits cellar,
to crib on the corner your mummy will drop you when morning replaces the night,
[: delivery note to lie they'll give you to play and a find will be loss,
compromise of life, you'll be left with loneliness, and you will be like you dad :]