| Cold In the black canvas of the night, we're wounded by fears. Injured in doubts.. and I, I can't lose myself. |
| Freedome of the Berbers Here I go again, dreaming of a place where poets can speak their souls, and the songs of love are in all minds. Sara sang her song this night, while the blood still cries from the ground. I don't believe in peace any more, while bullets still rape the merciful in this night. |
| The crime I never thought the day would come when my accuser would have prosicuted me and sentenced me to life without a trail.. My only crime was being a woman in love. |
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| The wind has a message of patience and hope.. Why mom did you not tell me this when I was younge? Either way, our dreams are written in the moon and the stars |
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