The Land Which Never Sleeps

What is it in that holly ancient land?
That would drive every single man mad?

What is it that the the eyes can't figure
What is that motivation, what is that trigger?

To kill a soul or sacrifice his own
To hold his ground of his invaded home

Is it the sweet taste of the olive it grows?
Or the feeling it brings when its wind blows?

Is it to honour his God, or to attain his own needs?
Is it out of religion, or is out of greed?

A land next to Egypt which lies so small
How can such a land blind them all?

Questions lingered for thousands of years
Answers foreshadowed with blood and tears

Cradled by war ever since it was born
Trees so tired from the armour it had worn

Hands pulling on its grounds so tight
Tearing its rivers, scratching its night

Soldiers march upon its mountains and fields
Lives forsaken as its swords and shields

A land where God's holy voice was heard
A land where Moses spread God's words

A land where Christ gave mericales which led
To healing the blind and reliving the dead

A land where Mohammad rose skies of seven
To see what there is of hell and heavan

A land where the first kneel to God was made
A land where the mosque's first stone was laid

A land where Romans flipped its earth from under
A land where the Crusades began to thunder

Rivers and rain colored in red eversince
Peace became ghost which tales reminisce

A land where viniger, water, and oil
Try to combine between its canyons and soil

Muslims, Christians, and Jews altogehter
Different Holy Places on top of each other

A land where a stone breaks the bullet into half
Where laughs are cries and cries are laughs

A land where minarets, horns, and bells
Call out for the man who to God he dwells

Earth shakes as a man bends to pray
Screams of bombs hold the mind asstray

Graves topple the graves from the past
Will there be an end? Will there be a last?

Children, women, men with empty hands
Turn to their dreams to see their green lands

With olives reflecting the sun's warm rays
Those were the good times, those were the days

Pomes of the past they would sing to sleep
While poems about the future are burried deep

Peace had left, for it had gone mad....
Please don't leave, please, come back....