not tonight, Josephine.

in an army's strength therein lies the denouement.  From here you're haunting me.  By the Seine so beautiful, only not to be of use - impossible.

so strange, victory  -  1,200 spires, the only sound.  Moscow burning.  Empty like the Tuileries.  Like a dream Vienna seems, only not to be of use - impossible.

in the last extremity  -  to advance or not to advance  -  I hear you laughing.

even still you're calling me "not tonight, not tonight,
                         not tonight"
             Josephine