ايام زمان

Old Days

I wish I could live just one day from the old days
Days when one always felt safe
Living day by day, not understanding the betrayal of time
Our deeds are still pure, friends of the Merciful
Still haven't grasped the meaning of malice, the meaning of betrayal
Still haven't realized there are whispering, cowardly people
Stabbing you in the back, smiling to your face
Even money was just a bit of paper to me

For the sake of money, a person kills, steals
People are crazy about money, in a frenzy
Whoever sows the wind reaps the whirlwind, like truth
I wish I could sleep on my old bed
When I used to lay my head on the pillow and sleep
Not worried, watching cartoons, feeling peace
Now sleep escapes me from thinking, from pain
My heart used to be kind, white, soft without scratches
Turned dark, wounded, strange, not recognizing it
Looking in the mirror, not understanding the story
A distorted, masked, smiling person

Every time my sins grow, I say it's not a sin and sin more and more
Every time a part of the distorted world shows, my enemies increase
And your enemies keep increasing as long as you grow
The closest people to you are your fiercest enemies, explosive
His face with increased lines, snarling, my heart hardened
I no longer feel like before, it's hard to be affected
I stopped laughing from my heart, stopped knowing how to be genuine
The value of honesty, a comfort not to be calculated
People, as they grow, wear masks on their faces
To make the world go round, everyone is hypocritical and deceitful
If you hate someone and they benefit you, why not show it
And me, when I was younger, if I loved someone, I'd hug and kiss
And if I hated someone, my face would start to frown
The idea that what's inside is different from outside is not in the dictionary
All that's visible on stage is what's in the spotlight
Still remember the pleasure of the first time in everything
As you grow, the pleasure is killed again
And you keep killing it, turning from desire to habit
The sweetness of discovery turns into plain coffee
My heart used to be kind, white, soft without scratches
Turned dark, wounded, strange, not recognizing it
Looking in the mirror, not understanding the story
A distorted, masked, smiling person

I wish I could live just one day from the old days
By God, this should be called Asleya Mekky, not Arabic