From a high mountain peak,
The sun rises to reveal this view,
Smoke rising to the skies,
Not from chimneys and from children breakfast make,
But from the smoke of destructions
Caused by rockets and missiles attacks
On innocent children sleeping beds.
The blanketed skies clouded wounded children’s view
Stampeding on fresh corpses’ floor.
And wailing women voices over flood the skies
With incessant call:
Damn the strikers and damn the kidnappers.
Road Map is torn and the process has failed.
Peace is illusive.
And the world’s big lords watch with their sentiments,
The war they created but cannot end.
For the joy of the music of the boomths,
And the kadoom-doomzs and the rakah-rakah
And the kah-kah, kah-kah.
The music that derails the soul of humanity.
[/center]
