Lyrics:

'...two, three, four'

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, impossible

So strange, victory
1200 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