Afshin's Song

its 1969, Tehran, Iran
Afshin is born, he's healthy, his parents happy
mum's conservative, devout and from a Muslim family
dad is quite the opposite, and when I tell you, you'll understand me
communist in that neck of the woods, at that time, ain't no place to be
brothers incarcerated, taken in by state police
despite this context, home is happy place
open dialogue, he questioned everything, it's just innate
a young artistic soul, with a passion for it like his papa
be whatever you want son, no one will ever harm ya
at ten years old, revolution begins
they move away from Ahwaz, refugees in the wind
times are changing, shifting like the northern breeze
borders ain't safe no more, but papa stays to oversee
the business, coz money waits for no war, and no man
feeding your children, that's the only program
Time flickers by in the manner that it usually does
War is knocking on the door now, so open up
Iraq invades Iran, the future's being carved out
Ash goes to Uni, not applicable for army draft now
Papa breathes relief, for his eldest son
no child of mine is dying, not from no one's gun
through the madness, and the fever of the escalation
there was his family, always there, always waiting
he's 24 years old now, tall and handsome man
6'4, dark hair, his life is planned
he takes exams to gain admission, to the Tehran school of arts
it's one fierce type of competition
in all the country, only 50 people make it
you gotta have da Vinci in your blood or you ain't really placing
but it's done, Inshallah they'll take you on
mama says her prayers, papa says you'll make it son
now in the country, the mullahs have taken hold
no intersex public congregations, it breaks the code
no dancing, no music, no public amusement
Khomeini is watching no, every sound, every movement
but youth is youth, the young will do like young will do
party at a friend's house and Afshin's coming too
the night is young, the music's flowing, so's the wine
this ain't 'Project X', but they're having fun, its summertime
in storm police, guns drawn, eyes wild
music stop, the panic sets, its lights out
ash and a couple others scramble to the roof
to hide from the police, there's nothing left to do
fate picks her moments with vulgarity and callous fingers
stealing destinies, with disregard for who she injures
a breeze swings in at the moment that police do too
they rush to Afshin trying to jump across another roof
He screams apologies, to blank faces drawing near him
they pick up him, he's screaming now, he can see the demons
they hear no protests, "Bebakhshid, please let me go"
bad choice of words, and flying out Afshin goes
6 storeys deep to the concrete street below
he falls silently, a poet in a dreamer's pose
people rush to out to the body that's now on the street
his back is broken, but he's breathing, and his heart is weak
the police get panicked by the outcries that start to happen
despite the screams, they drag him inside, his bones are cracking
you talk to Afshin and he'll tell you he remembers nothing
just the outlines of the people who all felt his suffering
they try to take him to the hospitals to get him treated
the police follow and the doctors all refuse to see him
they stalk the car throughout the night, so that the city knows
here drives the fool who tried in vain to break the city's code
desperate, Afshin's father bribes them to let him leave
their code relaxes; funny how money has that effect it seems
12 hours later, in a state beyond repair
they let him in to hospital where the doctors waiting there
they try to fix him, but it's too late, the damage set
now ash if left with his regrets and his loneliness
fate picks her moments with the swiftness of a swinging blade
you hear it coming at the moment that it's just too late
ash lays in hospital bedridden for 2 years
can't sit up straight, the pain is just too much to bear
lesser people would have given up long ago
but not Afshin, he's a fighter, you can't break that soul
his father gives him the results from his examinations
you came top twenty in the country, time for celebrating
he straps a pencil to his hand and ash begins to draw
excruciating, but the pain, he's learn is to be ignored
he keeps on drawing, like he's sketching for his very life
and on the paper his destiny comes alive
his family puts his work for sale at a Tehran exhibit
every piece sells, so he can start his living
he moves to England to start fresh and make a life
he finds the love of a good woman who he makes his wife
he paints to this day with a paint brush strapped to his fingers
it's well beyond me how he does this, but I see his genius
you draw your morals from this story coz I'm out of breath
all I know is for this man I have a huge respect
so when you find yourself swept up in the winds of fate
just think of Afshin and the future that he learned to paint