My Inner War
My thoughts are like my anger
blood pressure unbearable
hatred towards Pakistan uncurable
I vision this oppression through experience
daily living never helps me forget
Money is made on our lives like a predicted winning bet
Life is so cold and hard
I seek the help of others, but nobody is my bodyguard
I seeky unity, but my life is on a government hit list
Suffering and bloodshed flows along with the mist
they say the pashtun man is very brave and strong
our lives surround our tents as the winter is cold and long
Bacha Khan rightfully said, Our Land is cursed
Strategic Depth has led the Pashtun Nation to bleed to death
As if Iam drowning in a deep river and hold my last breath
Isolated and neglected from the world
How can I stand there and accept this brutality
Didnt my forefathers shed their blood to vision our freedom
Our weaknesses has led to our entire nation being vulnerable
Terrorists from Punjab Roam our villages
lecture us on what we should do and how we should live
A peaceful Land has turned into my inner war
Hearts and minds is the real tactic to defeat the enemy
Our lives are shattered and cloths tore
How can I cure this anger within me?
Pakistani Public do long marchs to preserve the Punjab Lawyer movement
While Pashtuns wait in 4 mile lines for a couple of biscuit packets
our stauts has degraded, through desparation our once strong able people have become slaves
the chains are heavy
the key to break the chains lies within our unity
to refuse to subject ourselves to their demands and requests
Wise men always tell me, Patiance is the key of success
I will never be a object of ISI to play its game of chess
My home maybe destroyed and flatten, my dedication will help me clean this mess
My heart can not bear no longer the punishment handed out on my land
She cries for our brave ones to fight
our ears ignore the call, over spoken by Police at every check post
at this time of the year, we would sit on top of the mountain, enjoying a chicken roast
the shrepnel from the bombs and shells that miss us, is our current enjoyment
as our lives have been reduced to a statistic for a General to build his villa
Our lives resemble pain and suffering, as theirs taste like vanilla
As the moon directs our movement to the guided direction
this inner war of mine will never end until every pashtuns life has a reasonable satisfaction.
Kind Regards
My thoughts are like my anger
blood pressure unbearable
hatred towards Pakistan uncurable
I vision this oppression through experience
daily living never helps me forget
Money is made on our lives like a predicted winning bet
Life is so cold and hard
I seek the help of others, but nobody is my bodyguard
I seeky unity, but my life is on a government hit list
Suffering and bloodshed flows along with the mist
they say the pashtun man is very brave and strong
our lives surround our tents as the winter is cold and long
Bacha Khan rightfully said, Our Land is cursed
Strategic Depth has led the Pashtun Nation to bleed to death
As if Iam drowning in a deep river and hold my last breath
Isolated and neglected from the world
How can I stand there and accept this brutality
Didnt my forefathers shed their blood to vision our freedom
Our weaknesses has led to our entire nation being vulnerable
Terrorists from Punjab Roam our villages
lecture us on what we should do and how we should live
A peaceful Land has turned into my inner war
Hearts and minds is the real tactic to defeat the enemy
Our lives are shattered and cloths tore
How can I cure this anger within me?
Pakistani Public do long marchs to preserve the Punjab Lawyer movement
While Pashtuns wait in 4 mile lines for a couple of biscuit packets
our stauts has degraded, through desparation our once strong able people have become slaves
the chains are heavy
the key to break the chains lies within our unity
to refuse to subject ourselves to their demands and requests
Wise men always tell me, Patiance is the key of success
I will never be a object of ISI to play its game of chess
My home maybe destroyed and flatten, my dedication will help me clean this mess
My heart can not bear no longer the punishment handed out on my land
She cries for our brave ones to fight
our ears ignore the call, over spoken by Police at every check post
at this time of the year, we would sit on top of the mountain, enjoying a chicken roast
the shrepnel from the bombs and shells that miss us, is our current enjoyment
as our lives have been reduced to a statistic for a General to build his villa
Our lives resemble pain and suffering, as theirs taste like vanilla
As the moon directs our movement to the guided direction
this inner war of mine will never end until every pashtuns life has a reasonable satisfaction.
Kind Regards



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