My mother whispered me good night,
told me sweet dreams come true,
but my mother did not know that
my nightmares were dreams too.
And they were the truest reality,
all those nightmares that I saw,
where gunshots were the music
for those who broke the law.
That night I saw empty streets
because all the people were just dead
as blood dried on their bodies
in different hues of red.
So I woke up from my nightmare
and my mother heard me scream.
She cried because our reality
was not different than my dream.
We saw guns pointed to throats,
and heard all the big bomb blasts.
So I wait for the day when all these things,
will be ashes of the past.