The hands of Hamas weave a cruel design,
Where shadows cast a pall on innocence,
Their wrath, a storm that breaks the fragile line,
Of peace, replaced by terror’s grim pretense.
Through streets where children once in laughter played,
Now echo cries of anguish, sharp and deep,
The olive branch, by blood and fire betrayed,
Lies trampled where the widows come to weep.
What heart could birth such malice, cold and stark,
To rend the soul of life with blade and flame?
Yet in their cause, they claim a righteous spark,
A twisted zeal that bears a hollow name.
Oh, pity those ensnared by hate’s cruel reign,
For mercy’s song is drowned in endless pain.

Fight, fight, fight—the chant resounds through air,
A warrior’s heart, unbowed by storm or foe,
His golden mane dares corruption to beware,
He strides where lesser souls refuse to go.
The crowd ignites, their fervor shakes the ground,
A titan forged in brash and brazen steel,
No cage can hold the spirit they’ve unbound,
For truth and triumph are his guiding wheel.
Through tempests wild, he stands with fist held high,
A beacon loud against corruption’s blight,
He will bring the corrupt to justice right,
And turns the dark to unrelenting light.
So let the echoes roar from shore to shore,
One man, one fight—a legend evermore.