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Hitler, I'd like to meet and to him I will greet Why do you hate the Jewish fleet Their bare feet march down the narrow street As Rabbis wonder if their maker is who they are going to meet
Moonlight streaked Through the rocket smoke Like blood rinsed through A butcher shop drain. And just like that They silence the disposable For we are merely a resource for warmongers. All around
March of the Blitzkrieg By A.R.T Cannons fire And our situation is dire Our men suffer from fatigue We are falling to the blitzkrieg
You called yourself my neighbor. Your children played with mine. We laughed and cried together. It seemed like you were there when we had no time But yet, when the demons came marching,
Naked skeletons. Hollow eyes. Gnarled joints. All in line for “shower” time. I was just following orders. Branded like cattle. In line like sheep for slaughter. Already dead.
A desolate place you see, full of death, blood, terror. The ash and dust everywhere on wide-eyed childrens faces, on the cracked windows of a building once strong,
I'd like to have a moment Sir Up here so close to You To talk about the things I've done and the things I've yet to do At times I've left formation To peel off and slip away
Her lips are red Her smile is soft Around the room a menthol waft Her heart my place to build a toft Charcoal swirling on the page
In the attic of rigid wood I sit denied any motion, We were forced here, as no one should We’re waiting without any notion.
I remember when the shots filled up the night. Now looking in your eyes it was like the fading light. The snow was cold, yet we trudged on. Death came to claim the old,