Letras
Stone teeth gnaw the skyline where minarets once stood
Your boots carve names in soil that remembers every flood
This child's eyes, dry wells where laughter used to bloom
Now count the seconds between thunder and the tomb
You call it order-I call it theft
You call it peace-I call it death
Oh land of olive roots and broken bread
We stitch your wounds with threads of the dead
No lullaby, but sirens in the air
Yet still we plant our dreams in poisoned ground
They took the well, the schoolyard, even Friday's call to pray
Left only ghosts to guard the gate where dawn won't stay
But in the cellar, fingers trace a map in candle smoke
Not of borders, but of bones that won't be broke
You call it law-I call it chain
You call it fate-I call it shame
Oh land of olive roots and broken bread
We stitch your wounds with threads of the dead
No lullaby, but sirens in the air
Yet still we plant our dreams in poisoned ground
They think silence means surrender
SILENCE IS THE BREATH BEFORE THE STORM!
Oh land of olive roots and broken bread
We stitch your wounds with threads of the dead
No lullaby, but sirens in the air
Yet still we plant our dreams in poisoned ground
We plant, we plant, we plant!