Caught in the crossfire

Calling for a ceasefire

No escape from our enclave

We are a people all but enslaved

Somebody has to take care of the

Premature baby found alive by his mother’s body

Somebody has to care about the

Hundreds of our brothers and sisters begging for another day

Caught in the crossfire

Calling for a ceasefire

I didn’t start this but I know how it will end

We are a people almost finished

Nobody will take care of burying our remains

They’ll likely leave us to rot in the rubble 

Of our mosques and our homes

Nobody will care about the

Thousands of our mothers and fathers

And our sons and daughters displaced

They’ll talk about how it was such a shame

We were caught in the crossfire

They’ll shake their heads and pretend

To regret not calling for a ceasefire