Simon Says

For the brainwashed Hitler Youth

 

The game begins, we form a line,

And beat the drum to keep the time,

So rank takes form in marching drill,

To play the game is Simon’s will.

 

When Simon speaks the crowd goes silent,

At his call the mob gets violent,

His words, our deeds, are one as we

Must play the game to Simons glee.

 

With bugles, badges, banners red,

The masses rally in his stead

To big processions, high salutes,

As Simon calls for more recruits.

 

The crunching jackboots dull the sound

Of weary thoughts our hearts have found,

And so we goosestep links und recht,

His troops in black, his Ubermensch.

 

If Simon says, we all must do,

The game demands we follow through,

For now there is no turning back,

Such is the fate of troops in black.