The world's on fire
We have children for hire
Catastrophe, our middle name
Chaotic in our moment of fame
Dignified death claims our glory
My Palestinian heart's story
I can find room for its self-pity
Its throne above Jerusalem city
Revenge is not my fight
The camera has confused my plight
Your magic box is all you see
And all I can see is me
Here I find my morbid camps
My home's ruins lit by lamps
Fight! Fight! Fight! Hear me chant
Your freedom, the victim of my rant
I do not want your charity
That is not the object of my victory
This false freedom draws my scorn
My colonialized cloak grows thin and worn
For I must beg of you to understand
It is not my wealth nor my land
My humanity is my desire
In this world on fire
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