Number 905806
Created | Updated Jan 4, 2003
A hundred days, a hundred nights,
It’s been a while since I’ve thought of those turbulent times.
An infection,
A crowded room,
A trip to the shower,
An exercise run.
The soldier looking at you continuously through it.
He wants to see you fall,
He wants to see you broken and hurt.
He is repulsed and angered by you.
He shows you how he feels, not caring for the injuries he left behind.
Your stomach doesn’t rumble anymore,
You’ve forgotten it’s there.
You have forgotten you’re human, that you have a heart.
You haven’t heard it beat from the start.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
It’s hard to look at what you have become…
A group of walking sticks.
You watch through the wires as newcomers arrive.
They still wear their cloths with their bright yellow stars.
They’re being sent to have a wash.
As they’re led to the building with the showers,
You see the smoke coming out the chimney.
You’re sad.
These poor people don’t know their doom.
These poor people wont be seen again.
You ask yourself how low man can go.
Such punishment,
Such crime…
For being different
I wake up with a cold sweat.
It was just a dream,
It seems like a lifetime ago.
I search for proof,
There it is…
A number tattooed on my arm.
It’s been a while since I’ve thought of those turbulent times.
An infection,
A crowded room,
A trip to the shower,
An exercise run.
The soldier looking at you continuously through it.
He wants to see you fall,
He wants to see you broken and hurt.
He is repulsed and angered by you.
He shows you how he feels, not caring for the injuries he left behind.
Your stomach doesn’t rumble anymore,
You’ve forgotten it’s there.
You have forgotten you’re human, that you have a heart.
You haven’t heard it beat from the start.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
It’s hard to look at what you have become…
A group of walking sticks.
You watch through the wires as newcomers arrive.
They still wear their cloths with their bright yellow stars.
They’re being sent to have a wash.
As they’re led to the building with the showers,
You see the smoke coming out the chimney.
You’re sad.
These poor people don’t know their doom.
These poor people wont be seen again.
You ask yourself how low man can go.
Such punishment,
Such crime…
For being different
I wake up with a cold sweat.
It was just a dream,
It seems like a lifetime ago.
I search for proof,
There it is…
A number tattooed on my arm.
