On these streets our feet danced in the morning
To the music of life, love and gongs
Raring to dream on with every dawning
Where the night sky sat spawning
Tales of our dreams at the behest of our songs
Choirs of missiles drown our voices
Crushing our land, livestock and dreams
Into the silent abyss of trumped choices
Where the echo of destruction poises
In ambush for hope hanging by its seams
Oh Gaza you are stripped of your mothers
Leaving the land bare with blood, babies and rubble
Under the scorching sun that glazes the backs of your fathers
Scarred by the faces of your sisters and brothers
Never to be remembered in the generation nubble
Screams charge up against the invisible air dome of peace
Seen by the strikes of the world’s imagination, prediction and discussion
Rationing our breath and our fate in their loving squeeze  Â
Towards the border of madness at death’s breeze
Where Gaza shall be a mythical name of neglection
In these skies our supplications rained down on sheets of fire
Whispered by the next debris, splinter and stench
Soothing the portent with penultimate desire
On Gaza’s strip where our hearts will retire
To sing with death in a peaceful trench
What’s next in Peter’s Box? ¡Hasta luego amigos!Â
