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
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