The streets of Old JerusalemIn front of the shopsThat remained of PalestineWe talked about what had happened togetherAnd they gave me a vaseThey said to me this is a giftFrom the "waiting people" And I walked the streetsThe streets of Old JerusalemI stood at the doorwaysWe become companionsAnd their sad eyes of the city's energyTake me and move me with the torment of feeling estrangedThere was a land and there were hands building beneath the sun and the windAnd there were houses and windowsBlossoming, and there were children with books in their handsAnd in one night rage flowed into the housesAnd the black hands unhinged the doorsAnd the houses became ownerlessBetween them and their houses barbed-wire fenceAnd fire and the black handsI'm screaming in the streetsThe streets of Old JerusalemLet the songs storm and rumbleO my voice continue to stir up a hurricane with these consciencesNow I know what happened to themPerhaps my conscience will awaken