I’ll tell you a story, make it clear as I can
about the far away troubles in the Holy Land
pictures of the children etched in your mind
buried in the rubble of the firing line

Jews and Arabs living one and the same
for a thousand years before the Zionists came
and they came like a river, they came like a flood
people calling it the Nakba ’cause that’s what it was

oh Palestine
going home sometime

talk about the settlers, come from so far away
talk about the money from the USA
talk about the bullets made of plastic and lead
‘neath the shadow of a boot heel over your head

what do you do when they come to your home
and they tell you your land is no longer your own
do you let them take it or do you dare to resist
standing in the road with a rock in your fist

oh Palestine
going home sometime

we say we want peace, it’s a moral obligation
but there can be no peace in an occupation
we talk a good talk while we beat on our drums
after all these years look at what we have done

does it ever make you think about the friends we endorse
the armies of a general riding on an iron horse
does it ever make you wonder why it always seems to be
such an undemocratic version of democracy

oh Palestine
going home sometime

oh friend of mine
we will have peace sometime