The Journalist

Door-to-door she talked to

Refugees without a refuge

Between a hard and a good life

A hotel and a war crime

People watching all day

Writing down everything they say

Elders kissed her forehead

Children knew her name

My bloody Valentine

In love with Palestine

Driving down with a young boy

Swallow salt with their hands

Haunted by that moment

They say "kill them all with lasers!"

My bloody Valentine

In love with Palestine

Heavy skin on her eyelids

Sun between the clouds is thick

The darkness of their robots

They'll take your land with cold eyes

My bloody Valentine in love with Palestine