Oh you ,who have been blessed by
The Lord,The Provider,The Most High!
Oh you who have it all,
Yet you don't give thanks at all.
Fruits and fancy foods don't satisfy
Know,that Cliphs cry
To thank their Lord for their provision.
They were commanders of a mighty nayion.
Oh you who have plenty,
Think of him,
He who said
"Did Allah make this for me?"
Here poeple play with gold,
There they starve and shiver in the cold.
Here plates full of food are thrown,
but there where the grain is grown..
What can we say?
Know that a Caliph did cry for the dog that did die
On the other corner of the Caliphate.
Oh you who rule the Muslim stae,
Think of him.
He who did say
"On that day
When the mule complains.."
Will our ways be starightened?
And our hearts become whole?
Will faith be revived once more?
Will customs be combatted wit Prophetic traditions?
Will we obliterate all superstitions?
Will women in our villages see the end of tyrrany?
Will modesty come back to the Muslim city?
Indeed we will mourn and greive
Until we learn to cry again.