lirik lagu omar offendum - damascus
[intro]
our first impression of damascus is one of surprise, as we notice the modern appearance of the syria square in the center of the city. but our opinion soon changes as we step a few places away
[chorus]
هذي دمشقُ.. وهذي الكأسُ والرّاحُ
إنّي أحبُّ… وبعـضُ الحـبِّ ذبّاحُ
[verse 1]
this is damascus
and this is a gl-ss of spirit (comfort)
i love – but i’m aware of the fact that
certain kinds of love
can slaughter you in their wrath
i’m a damascene being dissect me into halves
and have not but grapes and apples fall in your path
open my veins with scalpels
hear ancestral chants
if heart – transplants can
cure some of the p-ssionate
why does mine stay torn in half then?
minarets crying tears of absence
and like trees their souls speak
years have p-ssed them
(you can hear them asking)
for civil rights to live amongst
tears of jasmine
as house cats take naps – relaxing
[pre-chorus]
es la cosa mas triste de este mundo
y así me siento yo por ti solo por ti
(and this is how i feel for you)
[chorus]
هذي دمشقُ.. وهذي الكأسُ والرّاحُ
إنّي أحبُّ… وبعـضُ الحـبِّ ذبّاحُ
[verse 2]
coffee grinders crackling
childhood reminders – back when
how can i forget?
when my reaction…
to cardamom’s strong fragrance
yet and still finds attraction
as proud fathers wait
for a sweet daughter’s face
i’m asking…
if my roots – heart – and language are here
how am i supposed to make myself
any more clear?
is clarification necessary
with love so dear?
(so much so that there was no fear…)
how many damascene bracelets were
sold for this poetry here?
apologizing to the willow
wondering if my little siblings can hear
my parts been scattered across coasts for years
lanterns on horizons
(floating… saddened eyes had lost their hopes to see her…)
[pre-chorus]
es la cosa mas triste de este mundo
y así me siento yo por ti solo por ti
(and this is how i feel for you)
[chorus]
هذي دمشقُ.. وهذي الكأسُ والرّاحُ
إنّي أحبُّ… وبعـضُ الحـبِّ ذبّاحُ
[verse 3]
tossed around in sh0r-less oceans
only to be hunted down by devils & demonic ghosts
i battle garbage rap with prose & (rapid) flows
thats apropos until nawar is open to em
(thats fa sho!)
ident-ty of arabness resembling a widow though
is there no festivous for the rest of us history books can show?
what will remain of poetry’s originality if so
many a brown-nosing liar gets to have complete control?
how we gonna ever write a verse to spit
when k!llers still approach?
i bore the burden of my words upon my back until i grieved…
what shall remain of poetry when it is finally relieved?
(the saddest thing in this world – my lady’s – is knowin that we
were meant to be from the very start but that we’ll never be…)
[pre-chorus]
es la cosa mas triste de este mundo
y así me siento yo por ti solo por ti
(and this is how i feel for you)
[chorus]
هذي دمشقُ.. وهذي الكأسُ والرّاحُ
إنّي أحبُّ… وبعـضُ الحـبِّ ذبّاحُ
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