The train car was cold
Yet the flames of hell grew closer
The dark cart was crowded I've been told

When the camp grew nigh,
the flames grew high.
The touch of God left their side,
as they lined up ready for genocide.

They screamed and cried, but no one came
I knew I would've felt the same
When the oven got too hot to stand,
they disappeared into the ash then into the vent.