I call out from the grand mosque's slim minaret,
"Allahu Akbar, faithful come to prayer"
At Karbala, site of the Imam's slaughter,
Where Muslims come to repent their sins, regret.
But is our ancient, austere religion yet
Ours to practice, free from haunting fear?
For I'm afraid, on the streets walks a slayer,
He rules the land with machine gun and bullet.
From the time when Baghdad was founded by flames,
The chants of prayer have merged with those of death,
It was not enough that one Hussein had bled.
Greeks, Mongols, Americans shall press their claims,
Fools shed blood in this land until their last breath,
Iraq shall come to peace, when all men are dead.
"Allahu Akbar, faithful come to prayer"
At Karbala, site of the Imam's slaughter,
Where Muslims come to repent their sins, regret.
But is our ancient, austere religion yet
Ours to practice, free from haunting fear?
For I'm afraid, on the streets walks a slayer,
He rules the land with machine gun and bullet.
From the time when Baghdad was founded by flames,
The chants of prayer have merged with those of death,
It was not enough that one Hussein had bled.
Greeks, Mongols, Americans shall press their claims,
Fools shed blood in this land until their last breath,
Iraq shall come to peace, when all men are dead.
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