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Through the
meadow fields,
Across the flowered lots,
into a town of Auschwitz.
A town where the ashes fall
from the sky.
The smell of death hangs in the air,
over the people who go --
go about their daily lives;
not noticing the beheamoth,
the monster only a few miles away.
The only hints are the trains,
the trains that always run on time.
They are filled with screams,
with the dying, the sick,
-- the hopeless, the damned.
From every walk of life;
all brought to this town
-- brought past this town,
into the Iron Gates;
the Iron Gates of hell,
which open to the fires.
These are the gates of Birkenau,
Which, upon it is inscribed,
the damnation of all time,
the sadistic Nazi joke;
"Work is Liberty!"
Through the Iron Gates,
the trains stop.
--they unload.
Humans are poured out,
as though they were cattle.
Not human any longer --
but numbers.
The doors to the gas chambers open,
and the selection for the damned
-- it begins.
Families, men, women, children.
No mercy, pardon, or spare is given.
If they are selected,
they die.
And their bodies are burned;
sent up hundreds of feet
-- into the sky.
And these bodies rain down,
they come down like snow
upon the town of Auschwitz,
-- the ashes fall on Auschwitz
and they blanket the countryside.
These flakes of ash do not melt,
nor do they taste of winter glass.
These flakes serve as a reminder,
they taste of the body they belonged to
-- and the people of Auschwitz must live with that.
The fact that they live next door to Death,
and they themselves are guilty.
They see it -- and do nothing.
They smell it -- and do nothing.
They hear the screams,
they feel the stinging, singeing ashes,
and yet, they are silent.
But, in the neighbor town,
the one called Auschwitz-Birkenau,
this was the camp of death.
Barbed wire upon the fences,
electrified to keep it's prisoners in.
The gates of Hell were guarded,
by machine guns.
And the soldiers,
the dogs,
-- and the killings.
Every day, the people grew;
the children grew hardened
as they watched their parents age.
No child cried when their parents --
the only people that loved them,
when they were gassed,
-- or shot
-- or worse.
The parents saw their children die,
a brother sees his sister raped,
a wife watches as her husband is beaten;
and a kindly old man is set on his knees
-- shot in the back of the head.
A bloodstain spews outward,
puddling about the tarnished ground.
The ground turned gray
-- with ash.
The rabbis -- liquidated.
The Kaddish is repeated --
thousands, upon thousands of times.
Over and over again,
A little girl is gassed.
Two gypsies are shot,
clinging to eachother like children,
even though they did not know
--did not know eachother's names.
A baby -- an infant is taken from it's mother.
A little jewish baby is taken from it's jewish mother
and thrown into the mass grave,
while it is still alive.
It's mother is gased.
Meanwhile the others are put to labor.
Many tasks are needed done.
Their only ration,
a bowl of soup,
a slice of bread.
Day after day,
year after year.
Death -- and small scraps of food,
as health deteriorates.
And the once healthy men,
their eyes are sunken,
their cheekbones jut out,
and each rib can be counted clearly.
Their arms are thin as rails,
their legs look as though they would snap
like matches.
What used to be two-hundred pounds,
now survives on ninety-two.
Somehow, health must be maintained.
The selection comes!
Seperation of the sick
-- the healthy are living,
the sick are to die.
Gas. More gas.
More fires in the crematories,
more ashes to fall upon the town,
more damnable truth
-- to weigh upon the guilt
of the ignorant heads of the Town,
the ones who supported it all.
They deny any wrongdoing,
and support the depths of Hell.
They see the truth,
it rises thickly in the sky.
And it settles on the town of Auschwitz;
ashes fall on Auschwitz,
and more bodies,
more names,
more numbers,
are obliterated.
Swallowed up
into the greedy mouth,
of Auschwitz-Birkenau!
From the time of war,
came Death March
-- when the end had come.
Liberation.
Not because of work,
but because of men who knew the truth,
they liberated Auschwitz-Birkenau.
And then they moved on,
fighting the war machine.
The iron jaws were forced open,
and the people were let free
--those who were alive were free,
-- those who were dead, were still locked,
locked forever in this Hell,
the Hell of Auschwitz-Burkenau.
The town was condemned,
for knowing the truth,
and supporting it all.
Damnation lies upon them,
who helped construct Hell on earth,
from Hitler,
to Doctor Mengele
--the leaders of the sickness.
To the soldiers
-- the ruthless killers.
Down to the townspeople
--who knew all.
All who knew the truth,
all are punished!
For while the jaws were forced open,
and the wire is torn down,
the buildings are empty and abandoned,
the gas chambers are dark,
the machine guns are untended,
the trains do not run,
and the creamatory has stopped burning,
the ashes still do fall.
The ashes still fall from the sky.
The truth will always fall,
and coat this countryside.
Coat the countryside of Auschwitz,
with the ashes that fall from the sky.
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