THE LONGING

 

When will they tell us to go home?

When will they tell us to go home?

Or will they send us away?

Again?

 

 Like cockroaches and flies,

Will they swat us aside?

Squash us against,

Walls of rebellion and bloodshed?

Or will they stare at us?

We, the diseased beings from cursed lands

We, the hunger ridden progeny

Posterity of a nameless tribe

When will they tell us?

 

 When will they tell us to go home?

We, lost sons and daughters of the barren lands

Products of malice-infested economic meltdowns

Remnants of a land of milk and honey

Immigrants of the will of the chosen few

When will they tell us?

When will they tell us?

 

 When will they tell us to go back?

Back home where the heart feels at peace

Where we can pick our broken lives from the discarded pieces

Where we can light the fire once more,

Rekindle all things good and merry

 

 When will they tell us to leave this place?

This place of shadow and doubt

Place of sadness and fights

For I long to see my mother and father now

I long to chant the song of my ancestor

Sing with the bird of freedom

Song of freedom fighters

Song of home longing...