My brothers we’ve grown tired.
Some of us are tired of trying to make peace.
Some of us are tired of trying to make war.
There is no solution here. Over and over again, no solution. It’s like a long day that never ends.
And we get used to everything and we accept no hope.
Sometimes I think we’re winning, and other times I know we’re losing.
If we keep on winning like this, in the end there will be nothing left to win.
Sometimes I know we’re getting stronger, but strength is meaningless without hope.
If we’re heading toward the end of whatever they told us the Zionist dream was supposed to be, then let’s go out with a bang.
This slow death is killing me.
Give me a spectacular failure over a long, drawn-out phyrric victory.
Give me a knock-out, not a victory on points that no one’s counting anymore.
There’s no more referee and nobody cares about us anymore.
It’s just us and them. For God’s sake. We’re all clowns.
I’ve got breath in me for one more round:
Either all-out peace or all-out war.
One last round and let’s finish this.
But it has to be all-out. Enough of this no-war, no-peace, no-thing.
