Hello Allah my old friend,
I’m praying to you yet again,
Because a black flag slowly waving,
Is bringing about all this raging,
And I see children smiling widely hold these guns,
none too fun,
within the sound of violence.
Everyday I walk to work,
Twisted metal, bodies burnt,
In the shadow of where my mosque once stood,
I feel my eyes moisten, I draw my hood,
Chanting a psalm, my body starts to shake, from no earthquake,
and touched the sound of violence.
And when I fell onto the ground, with my entire village and some more,
people rolling around squealing, people laying limp and not moving,
people shouting up to the sky and praying they can quickly die,
Disturb the sound of violence.
For the men in hoods I do not know, violence is no foe,
My words that I want to share with you, let me kneel and pray with you,
but my words like from Allah himself,
echoed in a world of violence.
And the people lined up and danced,
around the black flag that took a stance,
And the leader of this group cast his spell,
broadcasting his message far and wide.
And this man said that the word of god is written in the blood of infidels going to hell.
whispering the sound of violence.