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No. 8 Prinz Albrecht Strasse (SS Headquarters)

Berlin Torture Room (Little Grey Room)


Dedicated To:

The Jewish Rabbis Jewish Leaders and the faithful

German Poland and Holland Residents and families of Berlin

Tortured then Executed by the Third Reich, SS 1933-1945


The hooks of Berlin now hang empty and dry,

Under the dawn of a war wounded sky

But once when the dark escaped from the black

And sent bombs bursting bright light, in this unholy attack


That twenty seven thousand left with Arian Spouse

Later to be chased like the cat and the mouse

Humane carnage boarded on platform 17

Fifty five thousand gone with families

The wind in Berlin still reeks from its sin

As it clings to the skin of the young and the old

But in young is a flower, who under sun should not cower

For out of their power is the resurrection of souls


But… for the old ordained of pure pain

These cowards of showers who drank of red rain

Shall now and forever marry the blame

For that one well known, completely insane


His erasing a race in a dying hot death

With flames chasing screams

Forsaking the dreams

Of those children who screamed

As it burned their last breath


Yet hidden and guarded from the worldly view

Death and doom draped like an iron cross tomb

Came forth with such horror the ultimate in torture

In Berlin it was called “The little grey room”


Few knew of the little grey room

Where such thirst from the hooks

While crucified quite queer

Drank blood from their back

Like vats of sweet beer


Then shamed while they cried

From room center would rise

The vice of the testicle rack

The focal point of the final attack


Then robbed from their graves

Their mortal remains

With souls full of grace

Were shipped eastern away


The hooks of Berlin forced free spirits to soar

A payable price that’s always charged in a war

Credit the victims paid by families who mourn

Payment in full for the peace we adorn


The survivors of the Berlin who knew

In the following days they are scorned

God save us all in a world without cause

In which Goering’s and Goebel’s are born


Dirty days have now been plowed under

The blood in Berlin is warmer and younger

Its true young flowers surely do weep

For as long as old memories do keep


Let us all pray one day that peace meets

Between the borders of love and past sins

In today’s beautiful sunlit streets of Berlin


The guilty are now amongst the dead

Most in their time admitted to the red

Midnight hands have spoken and said  

Reverence will guide new days ahead