In a world and time where we have to argue endlessly just to show that what is ours is ours, how long will I have to share with my theives?
I have adopted them, they are mine, those checkered caped crusaders
My sons with knives to my throat
The nation still raises it sword and sinks it into its plowshare, into my throat
My soul and blood pour all over the canvas which is the Land
Are we painting a good picture?
To see their eyes is enough, they are still learning war
Gilad ben Aviva, Gilad Shalit
The windows to the soul, and their soul and their blood poured all over the Land
The windows to the shul, and their soul and their blood all over them
Free Israel from its Land
How can the believers not be sad?
How can the believers not be mad?
The unbelievers revel in liberation as we are all liberated from our Land
In the world where I will lift every city and town in my Land above my greatest desires
I will not forget Jerusalem, nor Tel-Aviv, nor Ashkelon
Nor the buses that drive down the holy streets
Nor the holy people whom sell food in shops
Nor the smell of the exhaust of the buses, the sounds of the salesmen, the green uniforms, the shining black metal of the guns in which I used to see myself
Now I have a black kippah on my head, though it not shines, with it I try to reflect Heaven
The bricks of Israel, the stones of Jerusalem
They belong in walls and not in the hands of youngsters
They belong in the Wall, not in my head
I belong alive, not dead
I need to go there before I die
G-d send me there!
The sounds of shouts in Hebrew
I will forget none of the cities for they are all holy lands
For how is it that they are not worthy?
We beg for every small town when we realize their value
We want Akko and Haifa and Eilat before Jerusalem
I need to leave here before I die
The body is below the head
How can I throw trash on those streets?
How can I say dirty words in their vicinities?
How can I give them to Arabs?
Arabs who spit on me in my Land
Arabs who respect nothing and want everything, though nothing is theirs
How long can I be choked away from my land like a fish out of water?
How long can I simmer in their hot spit?
How long can I take this s**t?
I need to leave here before I die
G-d send me there!
Why, why, this painful exile?
I cannot endure this mile!
I cannot hold this smile!
My power amounts to nothing; send me Home!
Yours is the dome
I am becoming like a dry bone
Send me to my room, I don't want to leave it; what a beatiful prison
Where Your light shatters through the Prism
I do not know if it is in my power to retrieve it but I know that
I don't have it in my heart to leave it
I fear the future, I know not my sustenance
But I trust in You for it is Yours
Please, just a share
Mistakes I have made, but how can they be paid?
I am a dry bone here, a dry bone I am becoming
I fear the future, I know not my sustenance
But I know that here I cannot be sustained
Send me on that flying train, my L-rd!
Free me from this pain
You've done it once, now do it again
I beg
I have emptiness here, I need a touch of fulness
I realize my weakness, I realize my love for Your Land
I realize the richness of Your Hand
Blame me for I love what I see and what I touch
I fail from iconoclasm with Your Land
There there are spiritual spasms I have
Even in lowliness let me sit on Your Couch
Live to see not die to be free
It's soft pillows enveloping me
I here can barely stand reality
That boost, I need it, four years too long!
I long
I want genuine joy in my songs, from where will it come?
Please, please Hashem, please and give me some
To please I want and now I want
The melancholy of this longing
I see pictures of Your Land and have fits
I have to put them away
I have to deny joy, for all joy opens up to the joy of your Land
But I am far away
All joy opens up to the joy of your land
Like every river ends up in the ocean
What a predicament, what a Land!
For this land I am in is NOTHING!
Even molecules of memory I cannot withstand
I cannot function with images of that Place in my head
I have to imagine all day of its intense beauty
For one sweet drop of its honey
I have to feel nothing just to get by
I don't want to die
I want to live and there
I shake violently to go there
I grab air in front of me, I try to pull myself up
"Please, please," is all I can say
"Please, please, please, please, please"
I am an empty vessel of cracking clay
What is there to be inside?