On good days, I follow the caravan of love
I praise the lord and inshallah fold my hands
On bad days, the revolt is waiting for me
To curse your fickle temples to hell
What is love but being compelled to give myself
To those who want me the least
Who deserve me the least
Who see me the least
Who can hurt me the most
Keep your blessings and covers
I choose the streets over my bed.
