Inspired by events in Gaza.

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New York Times magazine couldn't understand why Palestinian children do what they do.

Dangerous Dreams

Ahmed is sleeping, Ahmed is dreaming,
Dreaming of a home he has never seen,
Where the soil is rich, for growing olives,
Olives and flowers, and the air is clean.

Hurry up, Ahmed, eat your porridge.
The smell of porridge, freshly made.
Ahmed’s schoolbag is hanging heavy,
With the brass and copper that schoolboys trade.

Chorus:
Teargas shells and bullet cases
Become an oasis, a tower, a stream,
Dangerous, dangerous dreams.

He’s a dream-eyed boy
in this place called Beach Camp,
No beach, just garbage, and dust on your clothes.
Concrete boxes for a million people,
A million people who can’t go home.

Ahmed cuts school and heads for the crossroads,
The desert crossroads, the barbed-wire line,
Where tanks and soldiers
guard handfuls of settlers
From the rock-throwing children of Palestine. (Chorus)

Ahmed can’t hear this bullet coming,
Only the music the future will bring,
When Jews and Arabs can dance on this desert
And no one will dictate the songs they sing.

Who needs this army, this army of Zion?
Who needs to build this killing machine?
Steel-studded borders, cold-blooded orders—
Who’s afraid of children with dangerous dreams? (Chorus)