Bread... and bullets.

In the land of falasteen  where the olive branches cry,

In the land of falasteen where the Nakba reverberates through time,

In the land of falasteen the Nakba travels through generations, a combination of loss and resilience. 

From the uprooting of communities to the erasure of heritage, the scars of dispossession remain, testifying to the enduring struggle for dignity and justice 

 

In the land of falesteen they get sent bullets and bread

A sinister offering wrapped in false promises.

In the land of falasteen we refuse to swallow their poison,

To choke on their crumbs while our homes are demolished,

For every bullet fired, another martyr is born,

Their memory sown into the soil we call home.

Leaving families of thousands all alone

 

America, with blood on its hands,

Sends death disguised as aid,

As if bread could ever quench the thirst of a people,

Longing to return to lands stolen from their grasp 

 

Fi ardi falasteen we are not just survivors,

We are warriors, poets, speakers of our truth,protectors of the youth

And though they may send bullets to silence us,

We will rise, louder and stronger than before.

 

With every bullet aimed at our hearts,

We forge our pain into steel,

Our voices become thunder, shaking the oppressors plans

For in the land of falesteen we are the architects of our liberation, not mere subjects of occupation.

 

In the face of oppression, our spirit only grows fiercer,

Like the phoenix rising from the ashes,

We defy their attempts to break us,

For our resilience knows no bounds.

 

So let them send their bullets,let them send their bullets,

We will catch them with our hands

With the generations of people stealing our land 

With all the stolen trees buildings and sands

 

In the land of Falasteen, in the echo of gunfire and the buzzing of drones, we stand unbowed. 

 

For every bullet and every bomb they send, we return it with defiance, transforming pain into power, and anguish into art. 

 

Our identity, embriodered into the fabric of our existence, cannot be erased by their violence nor silenced by their oppression and genocide .

 

 We are the guardians of our heritage, the owners of our land, and the architects of our own liberation. 

 

In the face of violence, our spirit only grows stronger, for in the land of Falasteen, our resilience and existence is our greatest weapon. With every heartbeat, with every breath, we honor the trauma of our ancestors, and with unwavering determination, we march, we walk, we run towards the dawn of freedom, nahnu filasteen we are falasteen and although our enemy may erase our homes they will never, NEVER be able to stop my hands from writing

 to stop the youth from fighting

 to stop the families from reuniting

 to stop our passion from igniting for we are falasteen 

Nahnu filasteen and we will never accept your bread and bullets