September 1, 1939
Can you hear the Blitzkrieg’s cry?
As Jericho’s trumpet splits the Sky
As the Stukas roar overhead,
It’s a miracle you’re not dead.
You see the bombs impact the floor,
one even blows down your door.
You see a glimmer of hope, the last tank,
But then a Stuka hits it at point blank.
Nazis roll by, their motorcycles gleaming.
But in the distance you still hear the screaming.
“Heil Hitler” they chant, Nationalist for sure.
All their morals are simply impure.