[instrumental] [interlude] [pause for a beat] [Build-up] [Intro] In London’s pale morning, a paper map unfolds. The outline of Palestine splits in silence. Ink lines still wet, trembling at the edges— A future no one knows yet is decided on a desk. [Verse 1] To win a war, London laid down three promises: The Hussein–McMahon letters, The Sykes–Picot agreement, The Balfour declaration. Three futures drawn on the same land By a city that knew the contradictions And pressed the pen anyway. [Verse 2] On Palestine’s map, three voices overlap: Arab independence, Jewish return, Europe’s design. All of them looked correct on paper. London ended the war and walked away, Leaving the map to bend under its own weight. [Chorus] Who was saved by that single line? Whose tomorrow changed with those promises? London’s wind won’t answer. Only Palestine’s map keeps gathering scars. On borders that never dry, People still walk. [Verse 3] May 14th, 1948—Tel Aviv Museum. Ben-Gurion reads from a sheet of paper. A nation is born quietly. Outside, tension reaches its limit, And the air trembles just a little. [Verse 4] The next day, before dawn, artillery falls. The borders are still wet. Heat bends the lines on the map. A nation, born only yesterday, Is thrown straight into war. [Bridge] Who were those promises for? Dig through the sand—there’s no proof anywhere. A future written on London’s desk Is paid for by people Living far from that room. [Big Finish] A nation built to survive. A land taken for survival. Borders that never dry Still sway over Gaza and Tel Aviv. The line drawn on London’s paper Keeps dividing the world. [Outro] London’s night stays quiet. The map’s lines remain. And on those lines, People still walk— To live, To live.
