I'm here in Buchenwald
My number's on my skin
Old Ilsa Koch is here
The prisoners walk the grounds
The hounds have killed a girl
The guards have shot a man
Some more have starved to death
Here comes the prisoner's car
They dump them in the pen
They load them down the schute
The trooper cracks their skulls
He steals their teeth of gold
He shoves them on the belt
He swings that furnace door
He slides their corpses in
I see the chimney smoke
I see their ashes hauled
I see their bones in piles
Lamp shades are made from skins
I'm choking on the smoke
The stink is killing me
Old Ilsy Koch was jailed
Old Ilsy Koch went free
I've got to hush my song
Here comes the super man
I'll see you later on
I've got to duck and run