When a son gets married
They drape the palm leaves
On his door
There were no clocks
Running; people would see
The shadows in buildings
Where the nights are
Golden; the trains of time
Leave it all behind
The sheltering sky
Taken in disguise
Wide open eyes
Smell of saffron rice
The strangers of light
So save me now
I’m feeling out of place
Tradition is gone
Money has won
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
