My name is Jonathan.
I'm 9 years old.
I'll tell you a story
that's never been told.

I lived in Lebanon,
and so did you.
Till the year 14
and a thousand times 2.

We lived aside,
your building next to ours.
We were happy, what a bliss!
But there are thorns on all the flowers.

---------------------------------------

I knew not what happened next,
but I felt heat strike my face.
Who would believe that the curse we're living,
was once upon a time a grace?

The explosion happened too fast,
but I had time to take a last breath.
And when you took yours too,
we crawled our way to death.

So we left dear life,
which wasn't always so dear.
But even in heaven,
the cries of children, I could hear.

And I met you,
my dear friend Hussien.
But know that Muslims and Christians
are both being slain.

Just wait till they realize
their killers care not
for religion or for race,
for all was to get shot.

They're both targets,
and enemies all in one.
And our country has become
a battle that'll remain unwon.

Maybe one day they'll wake up
and learn that religion does not
give only them the rights to live
and the others the rights to rot.

Maybe one day they'll learn
that we are all but one.
So why not hold each other's hands
and to the new day welcome the sun?

My name is Jonathan.
I'm 9 years old.
The terrorist, government, and citizens;
the responsibility the do hold.

They ruined what used to be our heaven
and we would no simply obey,
even though most of us
in this heaven are here to stay.

My name is Jonathan.
I'm 9 years old.
And I **** on people
whose country they sold.