Call

If I could wish to be some place else
I would choose to be the angel on your streets.
May the great god give you power
with your children, stones drop like fire.
Every day when you call to pray,
your Domes glow from the moon
on your beautiful sky shining so bright
into the dark, ready for heat of the night.
Off your shoulders, slowly slips your tears
on the floor, it drops a call have no fear.

The air brush off over your minarets
reminding us of the holiness love you're in.
Pull out the arms and up flows your stones
right now, the only material for you to wear.
You close the doors, locking us in weak,
turn on the stones and down your foe falls with all might,
they crawl slowly through your lanes
defending your soul to make you mine .

I run across your streets to reach your mosques
and salute your kids with every throw.
You raised me whole, far and through
just so I can be on your streets for you.
I slide down your hells and walls
to reach your markets.

I run down your merchants roads , such a beauty
you retract from my memories and i seize
your calls beating from your spiritual rain
with us surrounding you, you'll feel no pain