The Holocaust

Think of being called by a number Being thought of as nothing As they continue their slumber You know they are eavesdropping Think of being in the way of death Waiting for your time When you take your last breath But have not caused a crime Everyday I went to the fences But I could not see without my lenses Long hard days of manual labour Had to burn my men for a favour As I looked towards the dead I look down with guilt, look down with dread My eyes stung with the pain of lost ones Now I realise my life is long gone