God wanted a more beautiful girl than me She leans out of the balcony, Like a climbing rose, On the backstreets, Of Beirut, In her Chanel dress. I was young here, I married here, I had my child here, I am a grandmother here, I will die here, She says, Like she is speaking to Beirut, Like to her lover. Life is sweet in Lebanon, Just to be alive, To feel each day. Shells have fallen around me, In my very house, Snipers have shot, My neighbours, But I have survived. And that is enough, For me to sit here, Satisfied and alive, On my balcony. She looks down at us, Like a tumbling rose, Her look full of thorns and flowers, Falling from her balcony, God wanted a more beautiful, Girl to kill than me.