Singing in every land
It will never be a strange land
When it is someone’s home it is mine too
You wonder where I come from this rhythmic dynamo
With drums beyond calling mourning no one fails to rise
How can we sleep when our land is fire?
Syria is not thousands of miles from home
In our palms we can see her map
In our lives her shape too
How shall it be possible that we are not dying in her?
I would my alarm wake me every hour of night
Women are giving their wombs for tombs.
I saw the same arrows hit my homeland once
Sitting on our own maps, home became exile
When a land is not free and is death trodden
Beyond the rivers of Babylon must strong song be heard.
You sing a song how you can for every home is a strange land
when violence is every padlock and every key broken
I will sing it with and without tuneful drums
In music I will dream beyond sand dunes
I will ask myself what my thoughts can do
I will answer to my own question with something I know
I have known too our nation held by a thread of life
Cobwebs of thoughtful prayer remained our all
I felt the winds dry our tears and saw dust turn into bread
When energies focus the world will makes itself anew
Who holds the Olympic of peace?
Maybe is not maybe in this unreasonable horror
Annan is not sleeping and us too make vigil
The hour of pain is shared by the chosen few
Easy to count on five fingers continents
We are going to rent the skies with our thoughts
It does not matter that no one cheers, this is not a match.
It must rain reason in Syria now, not tomorrow
Graves and broken bones also deserve peace
Justice must be written on every ruin of blood so sad
And we tell As sad on a sad day the truth
That the moon still rises and stalks the sun
No land remains parted the seas bind one and all
No land bleeds alone, blood oozes into the sea
The underworld is sighing and darkness maybe is dying
Who will return a happy dawn to Syria and Afghanistan?
My alarm clock brings no salaams
It rings Ssss for Syria and A for Afghanistan
These seas of violence must peace kiss
How for the mothers, children and even men
Can violence be sliced like daily bread?
I have seen Syria bleeding endlessly
We have voiced and called to the deaf
We sent our force of justice silently
News of relentless fighting has not ceased
Does power always equal the same?
I have set my clock to alarm me every hour
So that I remember my safety is not for granted
So that I jog our memory to the present
Sounds of bullet fire and screams and deaths
Can news be something else for a change?
Sad as Assad who nods not for the moment
Assenting to the people would have been easier
Assessing the day with clock wise move from Tunisia
They fear that we never learn what no one knows
Is knowing so unknown in faiths confessing knowledge?