Jerusalem
I was born in Jerusalem
But I was not Jewish
My hair made of gold
I was given silver teeth
And a ticket to the mid-rush
The gamblers and confessors
Pleads of needs for grace
And as dismayed as I was in the kicked dust
My greivance bade me well
In even darker corridors
Where the good remove borders
Through hagglers and horders
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2010
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