Where is home?

Alive with no shadow, I feel so lost,
The penalty of our fathers, us will cost,
Where do I belong? What can I call home?
With emptiness inside, alone this earth I roam.

What do I fall back on, what’s my iron wall?
Crumbling and disaster as Baghdad did fall,
Hit after hit we fell, till now we are unable to stand,
And what we hear at night, are cries of a broken land,

Bodies of the innocent line the street,
And even the living wither in anger and heat,
As the sun rises it casts a black shadow below,
Killing the fruits of tomorrow, and their chance to grow.

Our rights were crimpled when we were promised democracy,
Yet only the dark, black hooded riper is set free,
Is this my origin, is this what I call home?
The land I spent all my life away from?

I know at the moment all is bad, it seems,
The future is far, but I have many dreams,
I have faith Baghdad will stand again on its feet,
And neighbours will return to live street by street,

You are my home; here I live as a stranger,
Although I’ve been welcomed, I’m seen as a danger,
For now, know in my heart you will remain,
Until one day to you I will return again.