The soil beneath my feet
is the most sacred thing for me
Like a tree, I rose through the stones
I rose so high, and then I froze …
The soil beneath my feet I call my home..
Is gone

Many called this land their home…
And as I grew older, I used to boast…
“This is where I’m from”
The throne, of the world we’re on
Where angels sing a beautiful song
Of all the great men that have walked upon the soft soil underneath which…
Thousands of years have been stored…in a precious embrace with the stones
Which we now, years later throw…at the oppressors with a heart cold…
After being given a taste of heaven…
A time came, when the place I used to call my home…
Was gone…