Land of the Living Dead

Tanks and planes, the people killed,
Soldiers from a foreign land,
Who showed no remorse for blood
That drained into the Arab sand.

Enough of tyrants, ages long,
Of hidden fears and silent pain.
Who crush their people like wine grapes,
And bombs on them fall like rain.

My dream is that from west and east,
And Russia joining from the north,
The world will unite to help
Stop the brutal soldiers’ wrath.

I don’t care what flag you wave,
Whether it’s red, green, yellow, blue.
And I don’t care what book you read,
As long as what it says is true.

⟵ Lura