مطر

المطر هون بتنزل كل يوم. خير وشجر وزرع وخضار على مد النظر. طول النهار بتشوّب و بتعبّق، بعد الظهر بتنفتح أبواب السما وبيقول الكريم خدو. مطر غزير مامنشوفو بعز الشتاء بسوريا. بيوم واحد بالصيف بينزل مطر أكتر من اللي بينزل بشهر كامل عنّا. إذا مابتصدقو تفرّجو عالفيديو

طيّب مابيكفّي الفقر المدقع

وتلوّث البيئة

ووساخة الشوارع

والفساد المتفشّي

والرشاوي

والغش

و الأكل الفاسد

و الخضرة المسقية بمياه المجاري

ونبع الفيجة ونهر بردى النشفانين

والشوب الحرّاقي

والعراقيين المشرّدين

والدّعارة

والموبايلات

والحكي عالعالم

والأسعار

والدخنة بسما مدنّنا

والسيّارات و الباصات والزمامير

والحوادث

وأزمة المرور

والكهربة المقطوعة

والأطفال المساكين

والمدارس وهم البكالوريا؟

بقول يارب لاإعتراض على حكمك بس ليش مابيجينا متل هالخير؟

برجع بتذكّر قوله تعالى

“لا يصلح الله ما بقوم حتى يصلحوا ما بأنفسهم”

الله يهدينا ويصلح حالنا

I fall To Pieces

Patsy Cline is an American icon. She was a fantastic singer with an unforgettable voice. She passed away, long before most of us were born, in a plane crash on March 5th, 1963.

I'm here to share with you one of the best songs she ever made.

Enjoy:

I fall to pieces,
Each time I see you again.

I fall to pieces.

How can I be just your friend?

You want me to act like we've never kissed.

You want me to forget, pretend we've never met.

And I've tried and I've tried, but I haven't yet.

You walk by and I fall to pieces.

I fall to pieces,Each time someone speaks your name.

I fall to pieces.

Time only adds to the flame.

You tell me to find someone else to love,

Someone who'll love me too,

the way you used to do.

But each time I go out with some one new,

You walk by and I fall to pieces.

You walk by and I fall to pieces.

Download I fall to pieces

وحدة

من عشرين سنة وأنا وحيد

منأوّل ما تركت و سافرت

عندي أصدقاء كتير هون

عرب و كل الجنسيات

بدي أعمل فرع للأمم المتحدة لحالي

تجوّزت وطلّقت

ورجعت خطبت وفسخت

بس شعور الوحدة مافارقني

حتى لو كنت بغرفة مليانة

أو حفلة

الوحدة بتضل واقفة بوشّي

الغربة صارت وطني

والأمل رفيقي الدائم

انزلت عالبلد

بالمطار عطيتن جوازي الأميركي

ختمو وزورني وأشّرلي إنو فوت

فقت الصبح، ريحة الدخان و زمامير السيارات

الكهربا مقطوعة وميّة الحمّام عم تنزل بالقطرة

غريبة، لسّا حاسس بالوحدة

أخدت أهلي عالمطعم، لطشوني بالفاتورة

مبيّن علييّ غريب

ووحيد

طلعتلي الوحدة عم تتمهزأ

فكرك هربت منّي؟

وراك و الزمن طويل

أهلك و رفقاتك يا أجدب معتبرينك غريب

عرفانين زيارتك قصيرة

ورجعتك إلي

خلصت إجازتي

وصلت عالمطار بأمريكا

ناولتها الجواز، تطلّعت عليّي وتبسّمت

وين كنت؟ بإجازة

باتمنّى تكون إنبسطت بإجازتك

تفضّل، welcome back home

لقيت الوحدة عم تستنّاني

حاملة لوحة عليها إسمي

طوّلتها، إشتقنالك

ذكريات رمضان

رمضان بالشام كان شهر الهدوء و شهر الحزن.... كنت مراهق واقف على الشباك أنتظر أذان المغرب..... شارعنا دائمآ مزدحم بالمارّة و السيارات......رمضان قبل الإفطار كان الوقت الوحيد اللذي يخلى فيه هالشارع الصاخب

كنت أحس بسكونة عجيبة، بطمأنينة عندما أقضي هالساعة قبل الإفطار عالشباك أحدّق بالطريق الفاضي... أستغرب وين راحو كل هالبشر والآلات المتحركة الصاخبة اللي كانت تؤرق نومي كل صباح...... سبحان الله كيف يغيّر الأحوال

في هاذا اليوم، ٢٦ رمضان سنة ١٩٨٢ رحت على مضايا أنا و رفيقي... إشترينا أواعي العيد، بنطلون و كنزة وصباط و كم غرض تاني

أوضاعنا المادية وأنا صغير كانت متواضعة جدّآ.... كنت إشتغل بالصيف لطلّع مصاريفي... والدي كان موظف عادي والمعاش دوبو يكفينا....بس رغم القلّة والدي كان إنسان عزيز و كريم.... الحمد لله ماحتجنا أحد

.رجعت من مضايا قبل الإفطار بحوالي ساعة ...وقفت عالشباك أنظر عالطريق الفاضي

من بعيد شفت إمرأة في الأربعينات ماشية في إتجاه بيتنا... لمّا قرّبت شفت إنها حاملة كيس بلاستيك شفاف واضح فيه شوية خضرة، خيار و بندورة و ماشابه مع صطل لبن صغير.....الظاهر إحتاجت هل شغلات بأخر لحظة قبل الإفطار...وجهها تحت الحجاب كان مرهق... مبيّن تعبانة بحياتها... الله يعين العالم...صارت تحت شباكنا ماشية عالرصيف....إرجعت إطّلّع على لاشيئ...على الفراغ أستمتع بالهدوء

فجأةً وقّف الصمت وحل محلّو صوت دواليب سيارة مسرعة عم تحاول توقّف.... بعدين صوت خبطتين

إتطلعت لتحت الشباك لقيت المرة ملقحة عالأرض... رأسها عم ينزف ودمها مختلط مع اللبن والخضار اللي كانت بالكيس اللي حاملتو

ضربتها سيارة فيها شابّين وهيّ ماشية عالرصيف.... المسكينة طارت بالهوا ووقعت على راسها

طلعوا المجرمين من السيارة... لفّوها بالمانطو اللي كانت لابستو ورموها في المقعد الخلفي و راحو

كل هذا حصل بخلال دقيقة واحدة... ماقدرت إتكلّم لساعتين.... كيف؟.. ليش؟... عم دوّر على جواب... لا حياة لمن تنادي

مانمت هديك الليلة... تاني يوم دريت إنها أرملة عم تربّي تلات أولاد... توفّت بالمستشفى... رموها هنيك و هربو

الليلة التالية ليلة القدر...والدي صابتو نوبة قلبية... أخذناه على مستشفى المواسات لإنها ببلاش... مارضيو يحطّو بالعناية المشدّدة... يمكن ماكان في سرير فاضي وماكان عنّا واسطة....أوّل يوم عيد الأضحى إجتو نوبة قلبية ثانية وتوفّى قبل ماينقلوه للعناية المشدّدة بساعة

الله يرحمو ويرحمها ويرحم أمواتنا جميعآ

من هداك اليوم ماتطلّعت من هالشبّاك

أكبر دب في العالم Dubya

This is probably the only time you'll read a post here about politics or a politician. I hate politics with a passion, and I hate politicians even more. The world has enough crooks and thieves for us to bring more and hand them a public office. But, this is how socities run. It's a necessay evil.

Say what you want about the USA, but this country is home to countless ethnic groups and nationalities. There is not another country that has that many immigrants prospering and making a decent living. I personally have worked with Americans and foreigners alike since I came here in 1988. I've been treated like a family memeber by many Americans and have blended in smoothly. This country has been, and will be for a long time, my second home. I've been treated nicely because I showed respect as a guest by speaking the language, and working hard legally, something that some immigrants unfortunately fail to do.

I'm here to talk about only one idiot in particular. His name is George W Bush. Bushie, the liar, Dubya (Funny pronounciation of the W in his name), baby Bush, Boy George, Bush Lite, Bushollini, George Wrong Bush, Giggling Murderer, The Little Turd from Crawford, the Little man in the Big chair, and War Chimp are some of his many nicknames. He reigned this country for 8 years, and destroyed the world in the process. An ex alcoholic and drug user who had no qualifications whatsoever to run a small town, nevermind the United States of America, except for his father's money and influence. The whole world hated the US, including its closest allies, while Dubya practiced his cowboy ways of starting wars and killing civilians. Civil liberties were violated in the country that created them. Innocent people were arrested and jailed without a court order for stupid reasons like mistaken identity.

You don't need me to tell you what Dubya did. The whole world knows. It might be a little bit late, but I'm just here to say this: Goodbye Dubya, and good riddance. يا دب يا

Ramadan on the Go

I hate being on the move. I also hate hotels. In the past two years I've lived in hotels more than any other place, weeks at a time. I'm going to Philadelphia in a week. I have to settle in a hotel for a while everytime we hit a new market. Priceline assigned me the Sheraton near the airport. I stayed in that hotel for over a month before, and half of its staff know me. Despite the service and the comfort, hotels make me feel detached. They make me lose the sense of being home. When I'm home, I have my own rituals. Cooking, cleaning, socializing, and of course, watching TV. I love American Football . To all of you soccer fans, it might seem like a bunch of huge guys hitting and attacking each other, but to someone who knows its rules and schemes, it's a very smart game. There are thousands of plays on defense as well as offense. I also watch news, sitcoms, and movies. Three items are always on when I'm home; my TV, my laptop, and my fridge.

Home, that 4 letter word I mention in almost every post. When I'm here, it refers to my own place, my sanctuary. The place that has all my junk, clothes, electronic toys, and everything I've collected over the years. The place that I'm always comfortable walking around wearing only my shorts. The place where I walk out to the front yard and see my next door neighbor working on her garden dressed in those tight pink shorts.
-Good morning neighbor, it looks like it's gonna be a beautiful day
-Yeah
-We're having a BBQ (a cook out or "mashawi") this Saturday if you wanna come over
-I wish, but I'll be in Philly for a while
-Again? You just got back from there
I know. That's my life.

Philadelphia, Phila, Philly, or the city of brotherly love as we call it here, is a very diverse town. It's a melting pot of whites, blacks, asians, arabs, and indians among other nationalities. It's also a strange mixture of nice neighborhoods along with very dirty ones. Parking and potholes حفر are the two most nagging problems there. I piled up over $800 in parking tickets while I was there. It's also home of the famous Philly cheese steak sandwich. The movie Rocky was filmed there featuring the famous steps he trained on which belong to the Philadelphia Museum of Arts. The northeast section of the city is packed with Arab families. You can see store and restaurant signs posted in Arabic. Restaurants like Saad and Al-sham are part of that city's many attractions. Falafel and Shawerma vending trucks are also very common there. There's also a large community of black African Muslims there called Alahbash الأحباش. I was told they were a seperate muslim sect like Sunnis and Shia.

I've been forunate enough to see and live in many cities and states in this vast country إذا أحب الله عبده أراه أرضه. It's never much fun when you're away from the place you call home for an extended period, but it's always good to see and experience new places and cultures. I haven't seen Ramadan in Syria for a long time, and it'll probably be even longer. My ultimate goal is spending one of the coming Ramadans at home soon.
Meanwhile, I'll be spending this one in Philly. I wish you all the happiest Ramadan ever, and the most prosperous Eid. كل عام وأنتم بخير

خطبة

مرحبا خالة

أهلين وسهلين، تفضل عالصدر

١. بأنو ولاية ساكن؟ طيب شو الفرق إذا كنت بألاسكا مثلآ؟

٢. شو بتشتغل؟ سؤال معقول بس معناه أديش بتعمل مصاري؟

٣. عندك بيت بالشام؟ لا ولله بنزل بالفورسيزون كلما بزور أهلي

٤. متجوز هنيك؟ لأ، بس عندي كم صديقة عزيزة

٥. بتفكر ترجع شي يوم؟ إي بس عم بستنى ليصيرو ٥ ملاين دولار

٦. عندي إبن خالت بنت عم عمتي بكاليفورنيا، قريب عليكون؟ بتعرفو شي؟ صارو سؤالين. إي، لحشة حجر، إللا ما كون مقابلو

٧. مافي بنات عرب للجواز هنيك؟ يمكن بس أنا حابب كتر عددنا بولايتي

٨. وين ساكنين بالشام؟ أنا بالفور سيزون بس أهلي بالحارة تبعنا

٩. كل أديش بتنزل عالبلد؟ والله ناوي بالشهر مرتين، أخر مرة طولتها شوي . تمان سنين

١٠. الدنية شوب كتير اليوم ماهيك؟ والله الفور سيزون كان رطوبة كتير بس برّة يمكن شوب

تاني يوم

مرحبا جار. بدي كيلو لبن

تكرم عينك، سمعت إنّك عم تخطب

والله عم حاول، شو عرّفك؟

إجو سألو عليك مبارح بالليل

تاني يوم بالليل

مساء الخير، مفتاح غرفة ٢٠٢ لو سمحت

أهلين إستاذ، إنشالله ألف مبروك الخطبة

أنو خطبة؟ شو عرّفك إنّو عم بخطب؟

إجو سألو عنّك اليوم الظهر، قلتلّون أحسن زبون عنّا

فتّحت عيوني، أمي فوق راسي

شباك ياعيني عم تحكي بنومك؟ الله يجعلو خير

Children

I was driving down a narrow street in Damascus near the Sha'alan district. I rolled down the windows on that cool eve and listened to a tune while the traffic came to a crawl. A little girl, just like this one in the picture, approached me with tears rolling down her face and a box of gum in hand asking me if I wanted to buy one. She couldn't have been over 7 years old. The sound of her sniffling while she shed the tears still haunts me to this day. Whoever sent her to do that, how could they?

Everytime I stop at the light at Shahbandar square this little girl and her two younger brothers are standing there. She's around 10 years old, with dirty blond hair, wearing the same old rags day in and day out. She waits for the red light to do its magic and stop cars, then she approaches drivers trying to sell them candy, gum, or a piece of air freshner. One hot afternoon I was behind a row of cars at that light, and I saw her approach a man inside a nice beige new Mercedes. She knocked on the window offering her merchandise. The car door suddenly opened up with force knocking her along with her gum to the ground. Dressed in a black suit, he got out and kicked her while she was trying to get up then went back to his car as the light turned green. She tried to pick up her fallen goods, and was almost run over by him in the process while he was speeding off.

How could he?

How could they?

How could we?

النظافة من الإيمان

This post was inspired by a comment that was posted in the previous article by a fellow blogger. Omnia wrote: "It makes me laugh to see Syrians making groups like "support Khawla " group.. I mean the little girl needed urgent operations, and what ppl could do here is joining groups.and me myself feel the same stupidity, when I write about anything troubles me in Syr, like the last post I wrote about محمية الفرنلق , while writing the post I felt stipud, I think writing this post didn't help the forest in any mean, maybe renting a car and taking some of the trash out would have helped more!" This little comment hit me like a ton of rocks after what I've seen visiting Syria. Flashbacks of bad scenes rushed through my head and I wanted to bring it to attention.

Cleanliness is next to godliness النظافة من الإيمان. All Syrians know that, and most practice it at home. But when it comes to the outside world, our streets and forests, this rule takes a side step to a new rule; get rid of your trash anywhere. I saw trash being thrown from balconies and cars with no regard to who might be the recepient on the other end. I was standing in my aunt's yard when a kid threw trash from the third floor balcony. This was not just some accident. I heard stories like that constantly. Women fill up their trash bags and throw it from their balconies to the streets. Friday outings which are a Damascene ritual where every family there goes somewhere where there's shade and trees turn our landscape into a dumpster at the end of the day. Take a drive from Damascus to Lattakia, and you'll see plastic bags and trash littered all along the endless highways. Deserts, forests, fields, lakes and all are all littered with trash and plastic bags. Isn't it time we taught our kids this behavior is wrong? Isn't it time we cared about our cities and country in general as much as we care about keeping our houses clean? Isn't it time some volunteers start a campaign to clean up our streets and spread the word around? I dare the Syrian bloggers who live back home to start that, and I promise I'll join and do my part each time I go home. We have a beautiful country, one that Most arabs and foreigners love to visit, and we are destroying it gradually with our own trash. Just like Omnia suggested, actions speak louder than words.

We, Syrians that is, like to blame everything wrong in our cmmunity on the government. The government did this, and the government didn't do that, while we practice طناش carelesness every day of our lives. We also like to blame everyone else for our shortcomings. Am I generalizing? You bet I am. It's what I've seen and experienced, and we all know it's true. As much as I hate sounding like a preacher, I feel this issue is urgent enough to forgive my lecture. It's time we did something and caused a change no matter how small. As a wise man said "Be not afraid of going slowly; be only afraid of standing still"

Unsocial Networking

"Oh my God, you don't have a facebook account?" She gave me a dirty look that spoke volumes about what she thought of my ignorance and anti-social behavior.
No, I don't, and I don't intend to start one up anytime soon either. I have to admit I tried MySpace for about a year, and recently Facebook for a couple of weeks. The two experiences were almost identical, boring, empty, and meaningless. All I did was stare at the profiles and pictures of "friends", and I use this term loosely. These "friends" never communicated with me, except for maybe a comment or two and I knew that I'll never end up meeting any of them. It seemed their only purpose behind adding me was to increase their "friends" count. Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned ways of picking up the phone, emailing, text messaging, or instant messaging a real friend? I can't speak much about Twitter or Orkut as I never even visited the sites, but I imagine they're all alike.

"Facebook helps you connect and share with the people in your life."
يساعدك فيس بوك على التواصل والتشارك مع كل الأشخاص في حياتك
Wow, so I can't connect with anyone I know unless I use Facebook? Or would Facebook help me get a better connection with those people? I beg to differ.
"As of today, 250 million people are using Facebook to stay updated on what's happening around them and share with the people in their lives..."
I must be some odd anti-social moron like the lady suggested. I mean what are the chances 250 million people can be wrong, and I'm right? I'm not sure. All I know is that these netwroking sites didn't serve any purpose for me, in particular, the purpose specified in their home pages.
I watched the 60 MINUTES interview with Mark Zuckerberg the 23 year old founder of Facebook (He looks 17 by the way). In case you didn't know, 60 minutes is the most watched and respected CBS news program in the USA. It aires every Sunday night. Mr. Zuckerberg couldn't crack a real smile and looked like one of those outcasts that couldn't muster any courage to talk to anyone in college. The company is worth 15 billion dollars, and he's personally worth over 3 billion. His response to the interviewer after stating these facts was that he still lives in a one bedroom apartment and sleeps on a matress on the floor. A lonely nerd that needed friends started that and the world followed. Welcome to the 21st century. It's all about money here. Facebook has been accused of using its subscribers' private information to sell ads. This social netwroking scam has been embeded in our brains as the next thing for the sole purpose of making money to the corporations that owns them. Yes ladies and gentlemen, they are owned by money-making American companies. This graphic was posted on MySpace homepage enticing new customers to sign up. I'll leave it up to you to figure out what kind of intended audience it was aimed at.

The next argument for using these services would be to aquire new "friends". Do we really need those so-called "friends"? Last time I was on MySpace I had over 50 "friends", and other than exchanging a few comments or a two-line email, there was hardly anything else to speak of. Most of the emails and the "friend" requests I got there lead to porn websites.

I have no doubt these networking sites can be useful to some busy people. The type of celebrities and politicians and media people can use it to update their fan base on a regular basis. But notice how I used the word fan in the previous statement. That's so far off from the intended purpose of staying in touch with friends. I don't think 250 million people belong to the category that can use Social Networking sites and benefit from them.


Why am I ranting and raving about social networking? Well, the service might do well in the American and western culture, but in our Syrian and Arabic societies there's just no use for it. It never seizes to amaze me how many bloggers are so devastated over Facebook being blocked in Syria. Others were also angry about president Asssad starting a Facebook page while it's still blocked back home. I'm not sure if a president ever has the time for this nonsense. I saw the page, and the pictures look authentic, but anyone could've started this page.

For now, I don't need Facebook or Twitter. I don't need MySpace or Orkut. I'm just happy with my little Blog sharing what I choose to.

Long live the Blog

I was introduced to the Syrian blogsphere right before my last trip home in June 2009. This was my first visit in almost 9 years, so I did some online research about Syria and Damascus in particular. Only then did I stumble upon a mountain of Syrian bloggers and their pages. To be honest with you, I had no clue this society ever existed. I felt so left behind since I've been online for over 15 years, and blamed myself for not digging into the Syrian presence in this expanding phenomenon. My online experience with Syrian elements was limited to exchanging emails with my brother and a few friends, and reading a couple of news websites.

A great number of these bloggers talked about politics, which happens to be my least favorite subject. However, others tackled many other issues and subjects and are very good at it. I felt like a kid in a candy store, and started indulging myself. My writing fever started to surface. I haven't written anything since my last college experience 6 years ago. The two classes I rememeber that involved writing were my English and Career Development classes. I enjoyed these classes because of the writing involved, but soon after I got busy with life, work, and the daily struggles. A hunger inside me suddenly surfaced, and this blog came to life. I didn't intend to talk about any specific issues or subjects. I just wanted to express random thoughts about my life and my recent visit to Syria in my own primitive way. I found this new form of public diary and self indulgence to be fascinating and addictive. One gets the feeling he's speaking to a large audience without the jitters and anxiety the very presence of this audience creates.

I do realize that I'm not more than a wanna be writer at best, but this urge to share and keep updating my blog has taken over and became a daily ritual. All my furstration that builds up throughout the day seems to evaportae while practicing my blogging routine.

Long live the Blog.

خلص الخبز

كلما بنزل عالبلد بوقف بأوروبا

يا بأمستردام، يا بروما، أو لندن

وقبل ما أطلع بالطيارة لسورية

لازم إقرا قل أعوذ برب الفلق

من شر ما خلق

بستعوذ ميت ألف مرة

وباخد حبة منوم وبطلع

بحس الطيارة عم تعن من كتر الشناتي

شناتي تحت و شناتي فوق

شناتي بالخزاين و شناتي بين الرجلين

حتى والله أعلم شفت كم شنتايه مربطة عالأجنحة

كللو بدو هدايا من بلاد برة

خلصنا من الشناتي

آخ من الولاد

كل واحد ووحدة معهن عالأقل ٤ أو ٥ ولاد

الظاهر في خطة سرية لزيادة التمثيل السوري في المهجر

يعني ما بيكفي الطوابيراللي على بواب السفارات؟

طبعآ لأ..لا بد أنو نأسس جيل سوري ولدان بالمهجر

يحكي إنكليزي بدون لكنة accent

مشان نفهم أكتر عالغرب و يفهمونا بقا

والجيل.. و ما أدراك ما هذا الجيل

جيل صراخ وبكي بيطير المخ

من شهرين لما نزلت كان عالطيارة واحدة سورية

بنت حلال معها أربع ولاد وكم شخص من عيلتها

لا تسألني كيف.. بس الأربعة أعمارون يمكن تحت السنتين

يمكن ما بتحبل إلا دبل كل مرة

المهم.. إجا حظي بالقرعة بالصف اللي جنبها

وعيلتها موزعة حواليي

عاليمين و اليسار..من ورايي و قدامي

قامت وزعت الولاد عليهن وخليت معها بنت

ماشاءالله شكلا متل الملاءكة هالقطة

وأول ماسكرو باب الطيارة و بدت تتحرك

بدا الصراخ والعياط والولاويل

الملاك اللي جنبي طلعت عميل سري

لكل شياطين الأرض و السما

هي بتغني وأخواتها بيردو

والأم توقف وتفك الحزام والمضيفة تصرخ بالإنكليزي

For the last time, please sit down and fasten your seatbelt

أغاني أم كلتوم أقصر من غنية هال الأربعة

بس أخيرآ سكتو ونامو

والله نوم الظالم عبادة

أخدت حبة وجع، حاولت نام، ما قدرت

إجا الأكل.. جاج أو معكرونة مع سلطة و كيك و قطعة خبز

أكلت بالمطار بس أد مانتفض بدني جعت

بنص الأكل لقيت المضيفات عم يركضو من مقعد لمقعد

كللو بدو أكل كمان و أهم شي الخبز

يمكن هي جزء من خطة سرية تانية كمان

ناكل كلشي عالطيارات الأجنبية

بركي بيفلسو وبيزيد شغل الطيارات الوطنية

و بيقولو مافي عنا تخطيط!!!

المسكينة المضيفة بالأخير حملت صينية الخبز الفاضية

و رفعتها أدام كل الزباين و أعلنت

No more food, and definitely no more bread

رجعت الملاك اللي جنبي تصرخ هي و إخواتها

وبديت أنا إصرخ

ولي... شو خلص الخبز؟

ضجران

أعد مع موظفاتي بهالشغل

عم بعمل حساباتي

وجعوني عيوني من البحلقة

بالأرقام و إيميلاتي

اتطلعت لبرة.... الشارع حلو

و الجنينة اللي عليه أحلى

طيب يا مصروع روح تمشى بهالجنينة

إنت وشي واحدة كحلى؟

ما بدي. والله مابدي

بدي روح عالشام

شم الدخان
وبحلق بالنسوان
جمال و أنوثة بس بيلبسوا ألوان بتقرف

شو صار للذوق ببلدنا؟ شي بيخوف

كل شي بيلبسوه ممعوط و ملون

والشباب كمان أضرط و ألعن

جينز ديق

و قمصان أديق

و بيهزو أفاهن أكتر من النسوان

روحوا شوفوهون بالشعلان

ومع هيك لسه بدي إرجع

بدي روح شم ريحة المخلل والزيتون

والشاورما والفلافل والليمون

بدي إتخانق مع شوفير سوزوكي

وآكل أتلة بقضيب

بدي إطلع على سوق الجمعة

و إشتري كروز دخان تهريب

بدي فك حزام الأمان

وخللي الشرطي يوقفني بالصالحية

أعمل حالي مابحكي عربي

وفرجيه شهادتي الأميركية

بدي إتجوز عالعتمة

الكهربا مقطوعة ولو طلعت مرتي عورة

ولما بتنقطع المي

بدي إتحمم بنهر تورة

بدي إرجع...بدي إرجع