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  • I’m driving my cab in obscurity
    It’s a life that I find hard to love
    While back home we believe in a purity
    That’s been handed down from up above.

    I’m driving my cab for my homeland
    It’s exhausting explaining quite why
    But I miss my country Afghanistan
    Although not the ways so many die.

    I was fifteen years old when I got here
    And been struggling up hill from the start
    But I’ve seen nothing since to reduce my fear
    While you make catachlysmic art.

    It’s much more than my own nation’s problem
    For we’re all adrift in the same boat
    You complain that we grow too much opium
    And we don’t like our women to vote.

    If you leave us alone we would sort it out
    It’s the outcome for which we all yearn
    But the long wars have left us so riddled with doubt
    We’re confused about which way to turn.

    I want my sisters to go to school
    And my sons not to step on a mine
    But as long as we have to endure foreign rule
    More poor kids’ll flock to the front line.

    We’re a product of mass insecurity
    Not surprising with all that we’ve seen
    But we’ll never resemble your country
    With the centuries that lie in between.

    While driving I’m trying to get through to you
    It’s a habit I find hard to kick
    For I’m keen to discover a westerner’s view
    And what makes your damned arrogance tick.

    I want to return to my birth place
    Though for years it’s been turned into hell
    But the incomprehension I see on your face
    Tells me that idea doesn’t bode well.

    I’m sorry if you’ve been offended
    But there’s one thing you have to admit
    That we both want the killing suspended
    So your loved ones can finally split.
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