The living passed on by
Never caring
Never looking
At the stack of bodies
Looking like cord wood
Never moving
Limbs and bloated bellies
Hiding comprehension
Of reality
Children behind the wire
Expectant of nothing
Knowing of the pain
Of watching parents die
Being fed into the fire
Wedding rings from the dead
Amass in piles of ire
A banality, of normalcy
Who could have imagined
The lives gone
And no one bothers to remember
Rouse Juden
Your lives belong to us
Achtung Romany
Your lives are cord wood
And you will burn
Leave your shoes behind
Your dead bodies
Will be piled high
Without clothing
Or respect
But the guilty watchers
who avert their gaze
Will never again know truth
Lies fill their days
And the end for many
Comes without mercy
Or memory
