Not just the tumult, even silence may beat tonight
Each syllable of rhythm may get defeat tonight

When words become futile to express the sorrow
For God sake—tell me—what shall I repeat tonight

And somewhere in deserts of Iraq—Shimr yelled
"I will behead Husayn, if he didn't retreat tonight"

F, N and few more have stormed the love treasure
These are the men who don't look neat tonight