There was a man on the second floor
He'd always retreat behind his door
whenever I'd come off a tour

From what I gathered he'd never leave the floor
I'd hold my breath when I'd hear his sneak-ering pause at the door
Creaking the floor
hiding, for sure


Once came a fiery flame and the fireman came
Hurrying staircases dropping floods up up above me
Making a vertical sea

We ran around saving what could until the fireman said that we should
Get out of doors and stay for good like we knew we should

They brought the man from the second floor He was carried out by police and more
Pitching forward running out of air down the stair into glaring lights
Looking unaware of the night

They set him down and he sat by me
For once in time began speaking free pointing out a flaming tree
Just two refugees looking at the spectacle sight and crying

That was when he said something to the air

I saw a burning like this before The fire there it was war, for sure
Screaming into the air Soldiers on the stair I could only stare I couldn't endure

Looking at the man he was pretty old
And I began to fear he was shuddering from the cold

But what he said sent an icy hold & told me what his unconsoled beholding eyes knew:

I lost my family in '42

The reason I would hide from your view:

The SS man looked just like you


From what I gathered he'd never leave the floor
I'd hold my breath when I'd hear his sneak-ering pause at the door
Creaking the floor
hiding, for sure


Cause where is the cure? & how to endure?
When fear and hate is such a lure
At history's core

The answer's obscure . . .