Patiently we sat on the shores of Lido beach,
welcoming our fishermen home has we inhaled peace.
Reminiscing on the good old days when love would slither its through our streets.
I miss the old Somalia, before the springs went dry.
My family and i had to seek refuge in a strange land,
though i still hear her cry.
Of course she will rise again, I feel her when my heart beats,
Very soon evil men will be wiped from beneath Mogadishu’s feet.
I miss the old Somalia,
It was always a pleasure to watch the land rejoicing when it rained.
Broken dreams and frustration everywhere,
the horn is in pain.
I miss the old Somalia, there’s no place like home.
A future generation of masons are on their way,
so still i will not give up hope.
Dedicated to Ismail