Sebnem Ferah
mu trks
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There is no cloud in the air, what kind of smoke is this?
There is no death in the neighborhood, what a waste this is.
Those Yemen hands are neither brave
Ano is Yemen, its rose is Çmen
No one is leaving, it is not coming, wonder why
This is the place, there is no way.
He leaves, he doesn't come, I wonder what the hell is his job