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The bodies lay unmarked, unnamed.
Rotting in the sun, splattered with clay.
The camps are cruel, the Japanese are worse.
What could have caused this horrible curse?
Prepare to work, or prepare to die.
Nobody can make it out alive.
They can't see the truth, of what they are doing.
The pain and misery of what they are brewing.
- by Bongo Groove |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 04/23/2010 |
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