Ask Germany for they surely know
The tales of Heil ****** death and gray snow
As the blonde Fraulein's with blue eyes
Strolled the avenues inviting and slow.
Delicate flakes kissed the putrid air
Neath their feet lay the ashes of innocent souls
The ****** winds of approaching war and salvation would blow.
Oh Germany my liebchen
There is no denial
Mitt dear you were patriotically complacent
Turning your eyes away in shame
Pretending you could not face it
Sipping schnaps ignoring and abetting the genocide from afar
In warm cafes that closed its doors tightly shut
Smugly shunning the arm branded gold stars
6 million and counting were blindly lead to slaughter
There was no preference
Only Jews non human
Beneath their feet
It was of little matter.
Cast your eyes to the floor
For my lady you most surely did know
When the smell of fresh death filled your nostrils
Drifting down from tall stacks
The scent of pungent thick gray snow
Some would feign surprise
Others of course truly were
But those touched by evil
Denied ****** freely committed and known
Whence sprang the fire source
The smell of charred flesh
Into the sky ablaze the souls arose
So came the infamous days
Of falling gray snow.
Tammy M. Darby Jan. 17, 2018.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
Ask Germany for they surely know
The tales of Heil ****** death and gray snow
As the blonde Fraulein's with blue eyes
Strolled the avenues inviting and slow.
Delicate flakes kissed the putrid air
Neath their feet lay the ashes of innocent souls
The ****** winds of approaching war and salvation would blow.
Oh Germany my liebchen
There is no denial
Mitt dear you were patriotically complacent
Turning your eyes away in shame
Pretending you could not face it
Sipping schnaps ignoring and abetting the genocide from afar
In warm cafes that closed its doors tightly shut
Smugly shunning the arm branded gold stars
6 million and counting were blindly lead to slaughter
There was no preference
Only Jews non human
Beneath their feet
It was of little matter.
Cast your eyes to the floor
For my lady you most surely did know
When the smell of fresh death filled your nostrils
Drifting down from tall stacks
The scent of pungent thick gray snow
Some would feign surprise
Others of course truly were
But those touched by evil
Denied ****** freely committed and known
Whence sprang the fire source
The smell of charred flesh
Into the sky ablaze the souls arose
So came the infamous days
Of falling gray snow.
Tammy M. Darby Jan. 17, 2018.
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