By Reza Lankarani MD

(Verse 1 - Whispered, over detuned guitar)

Stealth wings carve the moon tonight,

F-35s bleed electric light—

While Tehran sleeps in trembling rooms,

A Shahed's cheap hum... the coming doom.

(Chorus - Voice cracks, piano stains the silence)

Oh, Iron Dome rains electric grace,

On children's faces in this burning place—

Seventy souls... three hundred more,

SPICE-2000 wrote it on the floor...

In Ramat Gan's dust... a red balloon,

Hypersonic fire... came too soon.

(Verse 2 - Military snare creeps in)

Deep underground, the centrifuges sighed,

LORA's vengeance tore inside—

"Bavar-373"... a shattered shield,

While Unit 8200 hacked the field.

Mossad's shadow... Quds Force plea—

Generals buried where the fig trees bleed...

(Chorus - Howling, with Gilmour-esque guitar weeping)

Still, Iron Dome rains electric grace,

On mothers clutching time and space—

Shahab's rain fell... Jericho's reply,

Orphans counting stars in a dead sky...

"Bunker busters" crack the stone,

Children's bones... are all we own.

(Outro - Child's voice hums; broken radio static)

(Overlapping sounds: Farsi prayer, Hebrew lullaby, then...)

"INCOMING..." (whispered)

"WHERE'S MY—" (cut short)

(Single piano note fades. Silence.)

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