The desert of barren hate
Surrounds our indiscernible fate

Our eyes are dry and stale
With years of tears and unheard wails

We look for signs of the ones we loved
Within the rouble of the lands we ploughed

Yet there is no sign of our state
There is no proof of us on this world’s slate

There are no impressions of our feet
Left on this desert of our ancestral seat

We are refugees right in our homes
The homes that were once, but now are blown

And some of us turn to tears
Some of us retreat from fear

Some of us will choose to fight
Alas all of us will stand this plight

And here we are staring into the sand
Dreaming of our righteous land

The land that is…no more
The love that has…no fore
The hate which will be…evermore