Description
God bless al-Bakoor, God bless al-Bakoor
Day after day, the darkness of the walls of my prison dims until the corners give way to roses, and roses are not imprisoned, the bars themselves confirm this, proving the fact that success always emerges from the womb of suffering, I stand looking at the ruins and debris left by the ongoing war, and I hang on to the bars of the cell window, looking at the horizon...waiting...waiting...believing...believing.
Day after day, the darkness of the walls of my prison dims until the corners give way to roses, and roses are not imprisoned, the bars themselves confirm this, proving the fact that success always emerges from the womb of suffering, I stand looking at the ruins and debris left by the ongoing war, and I hang on to the bars of the cell window, looking at the horizon...waiting...waiting...believing...believing.
