Seema Gill
I don’t want to sell my heart
Selling is for suckers
They suck the blood of the dispossessed
The pot-bellied monsters will never confess
They sell pieces of their soul to claim fame
They sell their dignity with no shame
They will send the boy to fight a war
If he ever comes home, he’ll carry their scar
Many more are dying, many more will tell tale
All their glory will be put to sale
I was sitting on a bench in a famous park
A bit scared and lonely, it was getting pitch dark
I had a three legged monkey in my back pocket
And a beggar asked whether I've seen his ‘rocket’
Are you a terrorist? trembling I asked
He looked me up and down and laughed
No madam, but I got a story with a twist
If I ever tell it to you, you’ll admit
That I just wanna lighten up my freedom
No, no, no, I don’t wanna end up in martyrdom
If freedom will be rounded up for interrogation
I’m afraid I’ll loose my fifty pounds salvation
Where do you think the freedom will end?
When she’s let loose she got no one to offend.
An I ‘m sitting on a lonely park bench
with the pinch of freedom in my heart’s content
My freedom and I are never apart
An I’m not selling you my golden autumn ache-heart
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