Sorry Mr Schindler, we don’t want your list,
we don’t need to save, we just want to miss,
this machine is core, it’s the only thing we know,
let our life achievement be; a sea where our blood flows,
the cheques are already written, so are the agendas,
we break almost everything, return it all to senders,
our priorities are skewed, we’re so proud to hurt,
we truly are the heirs in spirit, of your hated Goeth,
war is close conversation, it’s good to say hello,
to start recycled talks, of both heaven and below,
fearing the imaginary, enduring all the gore,
is something that we have learned, to all adore,
so, Oskar, stop scratching, at the Ouija board,
for you refute, what we think, is worthy of applause,
as we are born to judge, and we judge the future dead,
the power that we have, is the choice to not share bread.