the style council
ghosts of dachau
I close my eyes I reach out my hand And there you are  Beautiful in scabs Caressing my scalp Under the mounts of the gun towers  I shout your name I kick out in dreams And here we are  The searchlight beams The siren squeals And hopeless shuffle to certainty  The crab lice bite The typhoid smells And I'm still here  Handsome in rags A trouserless man Waiting helpless for dignity  Come to me angel Don't go to the showers Beg, steal or borrow Now there's nothing left to take Except eternity  And who will come To flower our graves? With us still here  Covered with dust Remembered by few But forgotten by the majority  Stay with me angel Don't get lost in history Don't let all we suffered Lose it's meaning in the dark That we call memory 