Oh, the Zionists are fuming, their outrage off the chart,
As everyday folks flood the streets, tearing them apart.
Crowds chant for Gaza’s freedom, a tidal wave of care,
While Lebensraum hunters bomb from their lofty lair.
They’re shocked the world sees through their slick, rehearsed line,
“How dare these normies rise? This can’t be by design!”
Victims turned to bullies, with lessons from the past,
Nazi tactics polished up, their dominance to cast.
And look! The students lead, outstripping teachers grim,
Zionist Jews absorbing tricks from those who once did them.
From swastika to Star, the cycle spins anew,
Hardliners squirm as history’s mirror shows them true.
And me? No Finkelstein, just a Jew with pride in tow,
Grandma survived the camps, but Grandpa’s gone below.
I stand firm in my beliefs, no sneaking, just my fight,
Justice for all peoples, my beacon in the night.
Israel’s peace I back within its borders drawn so plain,
Palestinians deserve life and self-rule, no disdain.
I march with head held high, phone snapping every scene,
Truth my shield, no protest dodge—my resolve serene.
Grandma’s tales of survival fuel my every stand,
Breaking hate’s old pattern with a steady hand.
I’d debate a hawk at dawn, with fervour loud and clear,
“Bring the hostages home!”—my cry rings far and near.
Laughing at the outrage, truth lights up the day,
Peace for all in lines agreed, no more brutal lore—
Hostages returned, a world worth fighting for!
