They do not countenance the cost
To the legacy of human history
They argue, and probe
Surrounded by the proof
Archives of the truth
Debating missing millions
They pick at the strands
Of the seeds of doubt
That were delivered wrought
And the wounded become weary
Over the constant battle fought
To deny the undeniable
The white of ash
Like A killer frost
Beneath the chimneys
Pouring out smoke
Seeding clouds black
With the remains of life
As the bodies burned
The rains poured down
Black with ashes
Full with the lost
With every remnant
The scant residue
Permanent death
Of targeted races
Where the sorrow
Caused by the crooked cross
Chases hate
In a foolish race
With no winners
The season is eternal
Of constant winter
The world grows cold
This is the Holocaust
The Doubters
The Reality
