Where is the front line?
Where does it start, where does it end
I have patched the wounds, held his hand as he died
My Friend.

Who are the enemy?
The ones with guns, the ones with Knives
Some of them are children
In fear of their lives.

Who are the heroes?
Sportsmen, film stars; I think not
Only the Brave, a breed apart
A different type of Shot!

Where is the Front Line?
When will it end?
Only when humans embrace each others faiths
Then, I will call you! My friend.

Who was wounded who was killed?
I don’t care what he believed in the end
When I dressed his wounds and prayed with him
Colour, creed was irrelevant, he is My Friend.

He was is a Muslim and I am a Jew
We held each other as the bullets flew
He went to Allah while I held him tight.
I prayed in Hebrew and Arabic throughout the night.