The Lone Star

When I was a young boy
I wanted to know,
Whether I’d see Islam
When I’m fully grown.

Now when I look in
The mirror I see,
A Muslim surviving
In world war 3.

A war for the oil
A war for money,
A war for so much
That it’s not funny.

I’m surrounded by people
Who don’t really care,
Those who get drunk
And openly swear.

They have all their ears
Closed to the clear truth,
I kill myself asking
Where are the true youth?

Sometimes I feel like
I’ll drown in my tears,
Such a great struggle
In all of these years.

We used to have Islam
Flowing so fine,
This deen of Islam
Had a bright and clear shine.

Somewhere in between
We lost our sight,
We lost it so much that
We can’t even see light.

But the light is still as clear
As it used to be,
Still as clear as it was
In the seventh century

6th September 2003