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Shahin Najafi - Khali (Album Sade)

Website: http://www.shahinnajafimusic.com Facebook:   / shahinnajafi666   iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/sh... CD Baby: http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/ShahinNa... Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004A0XOUY Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/music/a... --- خالى - آلبوم ص شاهین نجفی Music: Shahin Najafi Arrangement: Majid Kazemi Lyrics: Shahin Najafi Cover: Ali Baghban --- Khali (Empty) The alley was empty, empty alley without you devoid of any sense or dream my soul became lost (Bakeri) for being far away from you Endeavor (Hemat) with this yellow northerner Twenty years is not a lot, it’s a man's lifetime with black bandana on your light green eyes with a stolen single shoe of my mosque-goer’s pair run away, run away, run away, you will die Maryam sat down so that the alley doesn’t get bloody from fear with a white veil (chador) and a flower from the broken jasmine Saeed was burnt so red we became fragmented, proliferated fragments With leftover installments we were chanting slogans that man came with radiant and suspicious laughter that man who was good and was making pregnant we were aborted from narcotized mothers We, the bright generation that got burnt out to the depth of the street we, rabid from book so as to bite the alley a bomb was blasted beside the school the filthy Mr. Nourbakhsh, that Allahu Akbar Chanter principal The clear message of confinement was in your bruised eye Masoud let another red twenty years with a bitter smell of ripped foot from prison together lets deliciously crack the brain of that appointed lawyer Your mother washed so many dishes that she melted away she saw your picture so much that she went blind it’s a great sorrow the heap of expectation you take the share of my wounds from your confinement You, dry like a look in the depth of exile more unjust than life in the face of death do you still cry on your foot? do you still die bit by bit with the news? He fired so that you get summarized in yourself Sir, there were so many “we” Sir so many that they weren’t finishing no matter how many we killed and history was blood poured from raised fury no matter how much they were giving away, they weren’t finishing skin, acid bedding eye, the awaiting pit holes “we” “bed, on the bed they were giving away the dead” they are not finishing those wounds were strange for us my cigarette sucked his skin I was an appointed officer and excused death is not an honorable job, Sir “we” “his childish bag was full of grudge” this was how he grew up, fatherless as if life for him is an absolute right mother let him pass under the book, bitter later his wife went insane and would write poems “we” in his neighbourhood would urinate on police’s footprints what flavors does riot have? Sir salty, salty, salty we, his mother… commander save us, thorny commander ---