Who are we?
The entire world is waiting to see,
Just what this Ummah might be,
But can we tell them who we could be,
When we ourselves cannot see…
Who we are.
Are we the proverbial raisin withering in the sun?
Are we the stinking sore,
Festering, waiting to run?
Are we unto the world a sagging, heavy load,
Are we the suicide bomber,
Ready to explode?