Gestapo

Down and downtrodden in the damp dirt
Trying to cover and disguise the effect of the hurt
Listen as the grim reaper swishes and vibrates his scythe
Foundate youself with blood to hide the palor, in beauty's disguise

The tears are falling and the end of the waterfall is near
You get more frantic as you realise all of your primeval fear
Listening for the footsteps slightly out of the known, accepted beat
Feel the heat of the crematoria furnace as the Sonderkommandoes increase the heat

Ashes falling like snow in the surreal bitter cold landscape
Smell the putrid smell of death everywhere, there is no possible escape
A number on your skin and the skeleton shape under the striped costume
Soon it will be your flesh and body that the fire will envelop and assume

Standing in the cold square for many a bitter hour on end
Wondering if you will manage to survive or will your soul the chimney ascend?
Plundering suitcases like a vulture and sorting out all the pathetic jumble
Piles like pryamids, a monument to the hatred and the destruction of being humble

You hear it now, it stares you in your face
The black leather coat, the round glasses, the place
You are marched to the left, you cannot resist so much known power
They are taking you now away, to have that waterless and Zyclon B shower.

Georges.