When you heard the murmurs, the talk of death and pain, you waved them aside as common rumors and pulled the covers up again. When you heard the staccato sound of the thousands of boots marching by, you sat and wondered: To where were they bound? but didn't bother to ask them why? When you heard the name cried out in voices that swell, you never questioned his fame and, instead, hid deeper in your shell. When you saw with your eyes the destruction of a culture you finally began to realize the dimness of the future. Yet you did nothing, you waited, and did nothing. Besides, you thought, they deserved to be hated, Now, as by friends graves, roses you lay guilt washes over you, and silently you pray. But whats done is done. A lesson taught to you by the past, so you swear on the graves of friends newly gone, that this time will be the last. The covers have now been lifted the shell at your feet lay in pieces the rumors are being sifted to protect you nephews and nieces.