If I tell you that there is this thing
Makes you go wherever you want to be
A chance given, to find prosperity
To cleanse yourself, to achieve purity
But this place is thousands miles away, thousands years away
Will you grab it and go on through ?
Or will you back off from changing your view?
Where is my home?
A state of trance away from noise
Where you actually could have a choice
When I find it, might I rejoice.
Chuckle I do, when I look at you
Loving a shallow moronic buffoon
Because he says not what is true
But cursing your so called enemies
With hate and gloom.
Where is my home?
A museum of art , a temple of spiritual
Nothing and everything is a miracle
When I find it, I’ll never be criminal nor hysterical.
There is no “I” in “team”, Maybe not
But there is an "I" in independence, individuality
and integrity.
And you can’t acquire them academically.
Nor by knowing all books alphabetically .
Where is my home?
A place where we all are equal
Where there is nothing evil nor illegal
My home is where I do feel peaceful .
“Inspired by George Carlin , my teenagerhood and the faded graffiti of Mohamed Mahmoud Street”
