Buchenwald

A blood red sun rose eerily on that April morning sky
The bullets had stopped flying hours ago
We were weary from the fighting, and just glad to be alive
We were marchin' down the road to Buchenwald

My nostrils burned of cordite, as I flexed my arm in pain
We were hoping that the Krauts had given up
We moved across a countryside once green but now aflame
We were marchin' down the road to Buchenwald

Then we came upon the cast iron gates
That marked the entrance clearly
And kept their horrid secrets safe inside
For several years we'd been at war
Yet unprepared severely
For the hell behind the walls of Buchenwald

The camp was permeated with a fetid, reeking smell
A wicked stench replaced the smoke and fire
As we walked along the courtyard, we descended into hell
On our journey through the grounds of Buchenwald

There were skeletons to greet us when we freed the captive forces
All flesh and bones and barely still alive
They they pointed to the pits that overflowed with rotting corpses
Piled to fuel the ovens in Buchenwald

Then we came upon the cast iron gates
That marked the entrance clearly
And kept their horrid secrets safe inside
For several years we'd been at war
Yet unprepared severely
For the hell behind the walls of Buchenwald

I may not be the smartest guy, but it don't take a detective
To understand the evil that they'd done
Gypsies, Jews, and others deemed genetically defective
Rotting on the grounds of Buchenwald

Many years have passed since that fateful day in 1945
The image burns my brain most every day
Nightmare desolation with so few left to survive
At the ending of the road to Buchenwald

Then we came upon the cast iron gates
That marked the entrance clearly
And kept their horrid secrets safe inside
For several years we'd been at war
Yet unprepared severely
For the hell behind the walls of Buchenwald