We have no more stable roof over our heads
We have no more possessions, no more land.
Our whole family is on the run
like wind scattering the crumbling sand.

We used to be so happy
With no troubles, no shame.
Coming back to a cosy home
With no crimes to our names.

So why are we now like this
Bullied. Despised. Starved. And flogged.
Instilled fear and desperation within us
while every minute stretches so long.

Crouching low, we are the hunted
Witnessing the pain of our fellowmen.
Piercing our hearts, the grief chokes us
but the bloodshed never ends.

But we still cling on to some hope
that we will live to be liberated one day.
Taste the bittersweet taste of freedom
through a Pyrrhic victory.

So let us pray and don't give up on hope
Though silenced with pain, condemned with wrong
That our suffering, our grief and wasted blood,
will one day be turned into song.