The Man With The Pink Triangle

by Peter Hicks and Geoff Francis

You were just a child, too young to know,
When they took you from your home,
And they pushed you in a cattle truck,
In a herd, but all alone.
They put you into Auschwitz with
Three million more like you,
A yellow star upon your back
Because you were a Jew.

They stripped, denied you everything,
They would have took your life,
But, somehow, it was meant to be
That, somehow, you'd survive.
For you, no food, no warmth, no hope,
No combat to despair,
Except a fellow prisoner's love,
And, somehow, that was there.

For the man with the pink triangle
Would come to you each night,
And he'd bring to you potatoes raw
That somehow saved your life.

It was four years till you were released;
The war came to an end,
And, somehow, you were luckier than
Your pink triangle friend.
He was one of the forgotten ones,
A million with no names,
Whose lives were never counted,
With no stones upon their graves.

But the man with the pink triangle
Would come to you each night,
And he'd bring to you potatoes raw
That somehow saved your life.

Near fifty years have passed since then,
Now there's nothing that you lack,
But you never can forget the man
With the pink triangle on his back -
And the life that he gave back to you
And his love still live on,
Each time that something stirs in you
That wants to right a wrong.

Now you give your time, you give your self
In caring every day,
And you give your life and you give your love
To those who live with AIDS -
While the man with the pink triangle
Looks on in his own way,
Knowing that the love he gave
Burns strong and proud today.

For the man with the pink triangle
Would come to you each night,
And he'd bring to you potatoes raw
That somehow saved your life.
Yes, the man with the pink triangle
Would come to you each night,
And he'd bring to you potatoes raw
That somehow saved your life.

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