Submitted by : Hotch on Palestine

Dusk meets dawn, a beautiful day,
Even prisoners get an hour to play.
In solidarity, yet all alone,
What’s worse than being a prisoner in your own home?
The sun’s rays break through and caress his face,
Teasing him, laughing, as if to give him a taste,
Of that which he can’t have, at least not within reach,
Reach out, make a change, be the change that you preach.

In comparison, you live like a king,
But even you’re just a puppet on a string,
Told what to eat, what to wear, what to like,
What to say, what to do, how to look, what to buy.
And whilst we’re indulged in frivolous pursuits,
Right now, there’s a soldier who is ready to shoot.
We think we live like kings; we’re told we live like kings,
Wake up! We’re just lost puppets on strings.
As we live a few thousand miles away,
The truth remains that we live worlds away.

What is really happening, I’m sick of these stats,
An entire population dehumanised, let’s look at these facts,
The fact that these people feel, how you and I feel,
Bleed how we bleed, it’s not just a number, this shit is real.
Faces blooded, babies blooded, I’ve never seen a sight so gruesome,
In gruesome West Bank, gruesome Gaza, gruesome Jerusalem.

Look at your little brother, now can you really see him yield,
And offer himself up to be used as a human shield?
Little Nahla being told what to do,
Despite her state, the illegal state states she can’t go to school.
She’s imprisoned in her home that’s made up of one room,
And with all the changes her body’s going through.
Her brother sees but won’t speak and you won’t see it in his face,
And that’s how they give each other their own space.
This is the psychology used to build privacy,
Now imagine this happening to you and your family.

How do we face the slaughter, of fathers and their daughters,
When we’re part of a system that leaves their lives without order.
The devil over my shoulder, false hope around the corner,
With Obama faking towards the pre-’48 borders.
The same man who keeps giving them dough,
Open your eyes bredren, he’s just putting on a show.
With that many faces, man’s a walking disaster,
Did you really expect change? He’s not the puppet master.
Break free from these shackles, the unreachable dream,
They pose as the key but don’t be deceived,
By their lies, there lies an evil disguise.

But we can’t make changes just sitting at home,
So I await your arrival outside your comfort zone,
But be comforted coz I promise you you’re not alone,
Besides, it’s not quite military control inside a war zone,
Where ignorant souls hide behind walls, and say, ‘I shan’t
Bear the fruits of the tree that I plant.’
How can someone with sight be so blind?
Like the weapons that they claimed but they could never find,
But I’ve heard that words can be sharper than the sword,
There are no veils between the prayers of an oppressed and his Lord.

Somewhere within, there’s a message of hope,
But I beseech God for the strength to cope,
With the guilt I bear of the little that I do,
But in my heart of hearts, I’m Palestinian through and through.
A foreigner in the country that bore me, I can’t relate,
Or associate with the people whose hearts are filled with hate;
But what I do need the strength is for,
When that child comes knocking on my door,
With his eyes seeking answers, my eyes hit the floor,
Looks at the coward before him and says, “explain Balfour.”
What do I say, say it’s the constitution?
And that the role we play is an involuntary contribution.
I find it difficult to sleep at night,
I find it impossible to drown out their plight.

Don’t just do it for them, do it to save
Yourself, this is what you’ll take to your grave.
Don’t you shudder at the thought of standing before your Lord?
Oppressed human beings were at your mercy, how did you help carry their load?
What will you say, what will you do, unable to walk,
Head down in shame, lips sealed, but your limbs will talk.
Open your eyes, wake up, live their sorrow,
Be patient little one, this’ll all be over tomorrow.