Verity find you not, in their prophecy

Piety, a stranger in their purity. 

Oh, those times of miracles:

The companions of al-Kahfi

Those days in the cave

A Time I’d crave.

Tell me, tell me 

O truthful one

Tell me, tell me

As it was in the cave 

The sun’s shade 

There's the joy

In innocence’s day. 

A new sheet calls for a new pen

New stars neighborhoods brighten. 

There’s someone to save

On any single day. 

In the kissing of flower 

There’s that fragrance in the air.

They tell me to sing tragedy 

They tell me to practice calamity 

They holler 

And there isn’t a single caller 

And sin, merrier and bolder.

They smite 

They exile 

They ignite 

Then call on the Infinite 

Then kill

And cry Islam. 

And there’s the smirk on his holiness 

And the poor man’s cry in the awfulness

And we see heaven 

And it’s wearing a frown. 

O, truthful one 

Whose Islam is it?