When I was five,
they gave me a book,
which contains stories,
which they said, are true;
Stories, which are told by,
a so-called god,
an imaginary friend of them,
whom I've never seen;
and who is just telling,
how others are mean.
I learned from the book,
How great are we;
And who are kafirs;
Should they be killled.
I didn’t know,
The boy next door,
reading a book,
And learning a new thing;
That just touching someone,
could be a great sin.
Another friend of mine,
sitting in a church,
Learning from a priest,
That I’d be burnt;
That I would be burnt,
by an all-loving god,
Who supposedly sent his son,
And whom, I forgot.
We learned about girls,
They are inferiors,
So the god decided to chose,
What should they wear.
As we three were friends,
We grew up together,
But learned from the book,
Only I’m the superior.
And one day, it happened,
Our god faced threats,
Taking stones into hands,
I went to the streets.
Someone came and told,
That I’m a communal,
I didn’t understood what he meant,
Coz’ this is what they made me learn.
Had they never given me,
'the book', that day.
I’d have been,
A human being today.
I’d have been,
A human being today.
