The Long Lost Summers in Kashmir

Killing of kashmiries in their own land by the Indian army over and over.

On a very clear day, the pain promised to come,
As it did, through the straight damn gun,
In the vale of tears,
The silence broke of,
 From the long lost past.

The guns made such a noise,
 That no voice dares to scream,
 Their eyes were opened to sky,
 Justice buried in so called naked land,

Even those who promised us, will save?
It was late and they knew it very well.
When they came to rescue us,
We were already dead in our naked land.
They thought we were ghosts.

This giant Himalaya will be our pure natural witness.
He saw it with his divine light. The blood spilled
Through rivers- gutters - trees �"roads.
And there was no water or vacuum to clean up.

When death comes, it clears all the seasons of happiness.
Then sorrow becomes the joy for the beloved.
To keep breathing and rehearsing those moments,
Emotions revealed and lost forever now.

They keep on rehearsing that they will protect us,
Even then they started to bury us again.
Death will not defeat us, nor does our pride.
Just when we started to build our new world,
They keep on tracing our new hopes now.
All was left the song that we once played in thirst.
Now we will let them hear again.
Freedom-freedom-freedom