You sat there under the moon
The dirt and your flesh swoon
The lovely tears of the night breeze
Longing for the time of lovely Greeks
What will I do tomorrow?
The thought of you leaving
The thought of you weeping
Echoes and faints of the lovely saints
I long for you my beautiful terrain
For the olive and narrow leaves of shape
Send me back send me back
I want to hear you sing under the olive sacks
What will I do? Tomorrow is here
The thought of you gone
The thought of you wan
I waited under the rain
From 1948 to this day and age
Sitting there by the grandfather cane
I waited for you, nobody came
Palestina Palestina
I waited, and nobody came.
| The Thought of You
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