What can I tell you of regret?
That you don’t already know
Maybe how it feels to owe a debt
Or leave your imprints in the snow

Where does the widow lay her head?
In the coldest winter night
Knowing her husbands dead
With no farewell before his fight

Or what about the little boy?
Who bought an ice cream cone.
Then in the window saw a toy
And dropped the ice cream scone

Where does a father turn?
When his children, now are lost
Who escaped from his hand too stern
Their paths never again crossed

How does the drunken fool feel?
In the misplaced mornings of remorse
While forgotten moments painfully reveal
Where the drinking began at its source

What tales does the old man tell?
Of love and fortune barely missed
As forlorn figures of memories dwell
The stories of pain persist

When can the general rest?
After sending his troops to war
Not knowing the informant confessed
His people were slaughtered as they arrived ashore

How does the historian write?
Telling legends of folks of lore
As religious pressure brings fright
Which facts does he choose to ignore?

Who is the leader that might have stood?
And rally the nation to a virtuous goal
Perhaps guided them towards a common good
But, in the chaos lost his voice and soul

For you see, I was a train conductor back in eastern Germany
During the war I served as a cadet
Escorted millions on their doomed journey
And that’s what I know of regret