My Last Thoughts About Iraq

In Baghdad my memories were sketched in a shadow of pain. Who is going to play the guitar? Who is going to sing? Where am I? Like a migrating bird will return home. My voice is worn out from calling out for Iraq.<br><br> Oh Iraq! Once you were Sumerian or from Uruk in an era that knew no history. You were Babylonian in a period that knew no love! Ishtar your soothing eyes are my harbor my passport to the haven is the window of my prison.<br><br> Ishtar I was killed once by a flood and a million times by a creature called man. I was killed by a nation by many nations. You are in America look over the sky! There is a very tiny star that shines over the village of Tin. Smile for the birds that fly over tin smile when dreams and secrets remain in that tiny village. Smile you are an American born in Iraq.