Dusty roads and olive trees, a gentle breeze in the air
Children's laughter, simple pleas, a life beyond compare
Fields of wheat in golden sun, a heritage so deep
Before the shadow had begun, before the world would weep

Oo remember Nakba, a whispered word, a memory of pain
A home that's lost, a future blurred, in sun and pouring rain
From Jaffa's shore to Galilee, a world turned upside down
In forty-eight, the people flee, from village, field, and town

The sound of boots on ancient ground, a foreign flag unfurled
A promise made, a new fate found, for another distant world
A knock on doors, a silent fear, a hurried, last goodbye
As distant gunshots echo near, beneath a silent sky

Oo remember Nakba, a whispered word, a memory of pain
A home that's lost, a future blurred, in sun and pouring rain
From Jaffa's shore to Galilee, a world turned upside down
In forty-eight, the people flee, from village, field, and town

They carried keys, a simple hope, to one day turn the lock
A thread of faith, a fragile rope, against the ticking clock
Generations born in tents, with stories passed along
Of fragrant gardens, old events, and a world where they belong

Oo remember Nakba, a whispered word, a memory of pain
A home that's lost, a future blurred, in sun and pouring rain
From Jaffa's shore to Galilee, a world turned upside down
In forty-eight, the people flee, from village, field, and town

And still the olive branches sway, in fields they cannot see
A silent vow, a future day, when all the world is free.