The smell is something 

that stays with you forever. 

The smoke is long gone,

but it left a solemn promise.


That stays with you forever--

when you look at the ovens,

it leaves a solemn promise

you will not let history repeat itself. 


When you looked at the ovens,

you threw up in terror.

You will not let history repeat itself. 

You know too much, now. 


They threw up in terror

when they came, you imagine.

They knew too much. Now,

you are haunted by memory. 


When you came, you imagined

the smoke would be long gone. 

You are haunted by memory. 

The smell is . . . something. 


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