Yehuda Meitav

Hi everyone, Today I had the wonderful pleasure of meeting Shane Shmuel, and what a meaningful and inspiring encounter it was. We shared a beautiful conversation about life, our people, our identity, and the challenges we are facing as Jews, Zionists, and Israelis in today’s world. I truly believe that certain people cross our paths for a reason. At a time when our people are facing such extraordinary challenges, I feel that those of us who are determined to stand tall, speak the truth, and defend who we are are somehow being brought together. And perhaps that is exactly what we need right now. To find one another, to strengthen one another, and to remind ourselves that we are not standing alone. Meeting Shane was one of those moments that reinforced that belief. I have enormous admiration for his courage, his conviction, and his willingness to stand against the dark winds of hatred, misinformation, and hostility that our people are facing. It takes courage to stand for something, particularly when the world around you seems determined to push in the opposite direction. Shane, I want to personally thank you for the wonderful conversation, for everything you do, and for the strength and determination you bring to our shared cause. I genuinely encourage everyone to visit his Facebook page, get to know his story, and discover the important work he is doing. We may each have our own voices, our own stories, and our own ways of contributing, but ultimately, we are standing for something much greater than ourselves. Our people. Our history. Our future. Thank you, Shane. I’m truly grateful our paths crossed, and I look forward to continuing our conversation. עם ישראל חי 🇮🇱

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Kibbutz Yad Mordechai. My kibbutz. My home. My roots. This is where I grew up. This is where I come from. And no matter how far life has taken me, this place has never left me. It runs through my blood, through my veins, through every part of who I am. Everything you see here is a part of me. The history. The stories. The struggles. The courage. The sacrifices. The humanity. The extraordinary spirit of people who refused to surrender, even when the odds were against them. A tiny kibbutz, carrying within it the story of an entire nation. A story of courage and heartbreak. Of the agony of defeat and the extraordinary strength to rise again. Of people who knew what it meant to lose almost everything, yet found the determination to rebuild, to plant, to grow, to love, and to live again. To rise from the ashes, not with hatred in their hearts, but with an unbreakable determination to create life. This is the place that raised me. These are the people who shaped me. Their values became my values. Their strength became my strength. Their history became part of my identity. And even after all these years, I carry that little kibbutz within me, wherever I go. When I speak of resilience, I know where I learned it. When I speak of humanity, I know who taught me. When I speak of Jewish pride, courage, and survival, I know exactly where those roots were planted. Kibbutz Yad Mordechai. You are not simply the place where I grew up. You are a part of my soul. And of all the things life has given me, being one of your children will forever remain one of my greatest privileges. My kibbutz. My people. My history. My pride. Forever a child of Yad Mordechai. Yehuda

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WHEN THE DUST SETTLES I wrote this song because something has been weighing heavily on my heart. Now that the dust has begun to settle, I believe many of us, in Israel and throughout the Jewish world, are only beginning to understand the depth of the trauma we have endured. October 7th was not a spontaneous act of violence. It was planned, prepared and carried out with unimaginable cruelty. And what followed was another wound. Imagine being violated, raped, slaughtered, burned alive, watching your families destroyed and your loved ones taken hostage, only to wake up the following day and witness people celebrating your suffering, justifying the atrocities and directing hatred toward you. Imagine surviving the horror, only to discover that the world is prepared to condemn you for having survived it. That is a darkness I struggle to comprehend. And now, as the dust settles, we are left not only with the memories of what happened, but with the painful realization of how deeply hatred can take root, how easily lies can spread, and how quickly compassion can disappear. I did not write this song for the world. I wrote it for us. For the Jewish people. For the people of Israel. For the mothers, the fathers, the children, the survivors, and every Jewish soul around the world who has carried these years in their heart. Not to remind us that we are victims, because that is not who we are. But to remind us of what we have endured, what we have witnessed, and what we must never allow ourselves to forget. There is an evil in this world darker than many of us can comprehend. But there is also a flame within our people that thousands of years of persecution have never managed to extinguish. And that flame is still burning. Am Yisrael Chai. עם ישראל חי. WHEN THE DUST SETTLES Lyrics, Music & Artistic Direction: Yehuda Meitav Now that the dust has settled, The silence speaks again. We count the empty places, We whisper all their names. But while our hearts were breaking, The world began to turn, And those who saw us bleeding Asked why our fires burned. How do you wound a people, Then blame them for the scars? How do you steal their sunlight, Then curse them for the dark? You cannot kill the flame, You cannot bury light. You cannot turn our suffering Into a reason we’re not right. We carry more than sorrow, More than history and scars. And when the dust has settled, Our flame outshines the stars. They hunted us as witches, They called our truth a lie. They built their walls of hatred, Then watched us multiply. And generations later, The children bear the scars, Of battles fought in darkness, Beneath indifferent stars. They struck us in the morning, Condemned us by the night. But no amount of darkness Can make the darkness right. You cannot kill the flame, You cannot bury light. You cannot turn our suffering Into a reason we’re not right. We carry more than sorrow, More than history and scars. And when the dust has settled, Our flame outshines the stars. We never asked to carry The burdens of the earth. We only asked for freedom, For dignity and worth. And if this flame means freedom, Then let the whole world see: A flame is not diminished By setting others free. You cannot kill the flame, You cannot silence light. A thousand years of darkness Could not take away our right To live, to love, to flourish, To stand beneath the sun. And when the dust has settled, Our story isn’t done. When the dust has settled, And the world can see again, May the light we carry Bring freedom to all men.

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HALLELUJAH FOR GREEN FIELDS Lyrics, Music & Artistic Direction by Yehuda Meitav There was never a world without sorrow, Never a sky without rain. But we once had a dream of tomorrow, And the courage to dream it again. There were rivers that carried our longing, There were valleys that waited for spring. Now the earth isn’t all that is broken, It’s the hope we forgot how to bring. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Haleli nafshi et Adonai. Let the fields bloom again, Let the rivers run free. Let us find in tomorrow What we still dare to believe. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Haleli nafshi et Adonai. We are children of an ancient promise, We have carried its light through the years. Not to ask for a life without sorrow, Not to measure our worth by our tears. We were given a world to look after, Not a kingdom to claim as our own. And the seeds that we plant for another Are the seeds of a future unknown. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Haleli nafshi et Adonai. Let the fields bloom again, Let the rivers run free. Let us find in tomorrow What we still dare to believe. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Haleli nafshi et Adonai. When the gardens are covered in ashes, When the rivers have forgotten the sea, It is not only flowers we’re losing, It’s the faith in what someday could be. If we cease to believe in the morning, If we turn from the promise we made, Who will plant for the children who follow? Who will offer the weary some shade? Oh, God of our fathers, remember, We are learning to find You again. Not in crowns, not in glory or power, But in kindness, in mercy, in men. Let us wake with a heart full of wonder, Let us give more than we ever receive. For the world is not lost in its darkness, While there’s one soul who dares to believe. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Haleli nafshi et Adonai. Let the fields bloom again, Let the children believe. Let the earth bear the promise Of the world we can still achieve. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Haleli nafshi et Adonai. We were never promised perfection, Only something worth reaching for. And as long as we carry that promise, There’ll be flowers upon this earth once more. Hallelujah… Haleli nafshi et Adonai…

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I’m delighted and deeply grateful to share that The Jerusalem Post has published a second opinion article about me and my music. Following my latest song, “And Gaza Has Its Tunnels,” inspired by the Hamas tunnel network beneath Gaza, the same journalist who previously wrote about my work has once again been inspired to put pen to paper. As an artist, there is something incredibly rewarding about knowing that your creations can reach beyond music, spark conversations, challenge perspectives, and inspire others to write. I never began this artistic journey seeking recognition. I began it because I had something to say, something I believed in, and a story I wanted the world to hear. To see my music continuing to resonate in this way is both humbling and encouraging. Thank you to The Jerusalem Post and to the journalist for taking an interest in my work once again. I’m delighted to share her latest article with you. Am Yisrael Chai! 🇮🇱 Yehuda Meitav The Babylonian

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I wrote this song because I believe that now, more than ever, it is time to remind ourselves of a promise we made to God thousands of years ago. Na’aseh v’nishma — We will do, and we will hear. These were the words our people spoke at Mount Sinai. We made a remarkable promise to God: We will follow You before we even know where You are taking us. We will do what You ask, and then we will listen and understand. Because we trust You. Think about the extraordinary faith behind those words. We didn’t ask to see the road ahead. We didn’t demand guarantees. We placed our trust in God, even when we couldn’t see what tomorrow would bring. And perhaps this is our Achilles’ heel today. Somewhere along the way, through all the suffering, uncertainty, wars and darkness, we may have forgotten the power of that promise. We look ahead and see storms. We see a road disappearing into the mist. We become frightened because we cannot see what lies beyond it. But perhaps we were never meant to see the entire road. Perhaps we were simply meant to remember who is guiding us. Our people have crossed deserts and seas. We have survived Pharaoh, Babylon, exile, persecution and wars. We have paid an unimaginable price, and yet, after thousands of years, we are still here. I cannot explain every tragedy, nor do I pretend to understand God’s plans. But I believe that our survival is nothing short of a miracle. And I believe it is time to reactivate that ancient promise. Na’aseh v’nishma. We will do, and we will hear. Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem. Everything is in God’s hands. This song is my reminder to myself and to my people: Lift your eyes. Look ahead. Do not be afraid of the road simply because you cannot see where it leads. We made a promise. It is time to remember it. ⸻ NA’ASEH V’NISHMA The Road Ahead Lyrics, Music & Artistic Adaptation and Direction by Yehuda Meitav There’s a road ahead I cannot see, A thousand shadows in front of me. The night is long, the mountains high, And unanswered questions fill the sky. But somewhere deep within my soul, I hear the words our fathers told. Before we knew where we would go, We made a promise long ago. Na’aseh ve-nishma! We will do, and we will hear! Na’aseh ve-nishma! We will walk beyond our fear! Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem, Even when we cannot see. Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem, We will trust, and we will believe! We stood before the mighty Pharaoh, We crossed the sea with faith alone. Through forty years of desert wandering, He led His children towards their home. Babylon took us from our homeland, But never took away our name. Through generations, tears and exile, We kept the covenant, kept the flame. Na’aseh ve-nishma! We will do, and we will hear! Na’aseh ve-nishma! We will walk beyond our fear! Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem, Even when we cannot see. Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem, We will trust, and we will believe! In forty-eight, we stood together, In sixty-seven, through the fire. In seventy-three, on Yom Kippur, We faced the darkness once again. Through Lebanon, through endless battles, We paid a price no words can tell. And every name we carry with us, Lives in the hearts of Israel. Maybe miracles have a price, Maybe faith means walking blind. I don’t pretend to know His reasons, Or understand His greater design. But we promised Him at Sinai, Before we knew what lay ahead. Na’aseh ve-nishma, we answered, And those words are not yet dead! He promised we would be His people, And through the ages we remain. So take my hand, my brother, sister, We will walk this road again! Na’aseh ve-nishma! Let the mountains hear our song! Na’aseh ve-nishma! We have carried it so long! Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem! When the road is dark and steep! Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem! There are promises we keep! We don’t need to see tomorrow, We don’t need to know the end. We just need to keep on walking, With our faith in Him again. Look ahead, my people, look ahead, There is light beyond the bend. We made a promise long ago, And we will keep it till the end. Na’aseh ve-nishma… Ha-kol b’ydei Hashem…

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To all of you out there who think this war started on October 7, 2023, I’ve got news for you. This war started a long time ago. I believe Hamas deliberately planned October 7 to provoke Israel into war, deceive world opinion, and turn international outrage against Israel. And perhaps they’re succeeding. Perhaps the world will continue to condemn us, hate us, and blame us for defending ourselves. But here’s something you need to understand: our right to exist and defend our people does not depend on the world’s approval. To Hamas and anyone who thinks they can attack my country, murder our people, and expect us to surrender, I have a very simple message: FAFO! Fuck Around and Find Out! If you’re wondering what that means, look at the photographs of Gaza today. Look at the destruction and the terrible consequences of this war. Don’t fuck with us. We are not going anywhere. Am Yisrael Chai! 🇮🇱 FAFO! Lyrics, Music & Artistic Direction by Yehuda Meitav You crossed the border, you lit the flame, October seventh, remember the name. You knew our strength, you knew our might, Still sent your killers into the night. You knew the fire would reach your door, You knew the price, you knew the score. You gambled your people’s lives away, Then blamed the ones you chose to slay. You thought the world would turn its head, Forget our children, forget our dead. You thought we’d kneel, you thought we’d cry, But here’s the answer, eye to eye! FAFO! Fuck around and find out! Yalla, yalla, hear us shout! Sababa, sababa, lama lo? You started the fire, now you know! FAFO! Fuck around and find out! We won’t disappear, we won’t back down! Am Yisrael Chai, let the whole world know, Yalla, sababa — FAFO! You built your tunnels beneath the ground, While innocent lives were all around. You knew the cameras would turn our way, And blame the defenders at the end of the day. You counted on outrage, counted on lies, On headlines louder than children’s cries. But we remember, and we won’t forget, The hostages you haven’t returned yet. You wanted the world to call us wrong, But we’re still standing, we’re still strong. You thought we’d leave our own behind? You must have lost your bloody mind! FAFO! Fuck around and find out! Yalla, yalla, hear us shout! Sababa, sababa, lama lo? You started the fire, now you know! FAFO! Fuck around and find out! We won’t disappear, we won’t back down! Am Yisrael Chai, let the whole world know, Yalla, sababa — FAFO! We have a people! We have a land! We have a language! A flag in our hands! We have our history! Our daughters and sons! And never again will we turn and run! Not looking for trouble, Not begging for war. But cross that line, And hear us roar! FAFO! Fuck around and find out! From Jerusalem, hear us shout! Yalla, yalla, sababa, sababa! You wanted the answer? Well, here’s your answer! FAFO! Fuck around and find out! We are alive, and we’re standing proud! A people, a nation, a home, a flag, And nobody’s taking our future back! Yalla, yalla… Lama lo? Sababa? You know who we are. You know where we stand. Next time, think twice. FAFO. Am Yisrael Chai!

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🚀 The Heroes Are Taking Flight! And here we go! Welcome to HERO ISRAEL! Shana Meyerson and Yehuda Meitav are joining forces to create a platform dedicated to the extraordinary people who don’t always make the headlines, but whose courage, compassion, determination, and humanity make a difference every single day. The unsung heroes of Israel and Jewish communities around the world. The volunteers, the rescuers, the dreamers, the fighters, the healers, and the ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Their stories deserve to be heard. Their voices deserve to be amplified. And their actions deserve to inspire the world. HERO ISRAEL is not just another podcast. It’s a platform for the people who remind us what humanity is capable of. From time to time, HERO ISRAEL will also venture beyond the stories of our unsung heroes to explore fascinating ideas, challenging questions, and subjects that are often misunderstood, overlooked, or considered taboo. We will welcome interesting voices and different perspectives, exploring Jewish history, Judaism, Israel, Zionism, our heritage, and the events and ideas that have shaped who we are today. Our mission is not only to celebrate extraordinary people, but also to encourage curiosity, challenge misconceptions, open meaningful conversations, and shine a light on subjects that deserve greater understanding. Because sometimes, the most important conversations are the ones nobody dares to begin. Join Shana Meyerson and Yehuda Meitav as we introduce you to the heroes among us. Our heroes have stories. We’re here to give them wings. Am Yisrael Chai! 🇮🇱

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I wrote this song because a lot of people around the world are not aware of something known as “Pay to Slay.” For years, the Palestinian Authority operated a system of financial payments to Palestinians imprisoned by Israel, including people convicted of deadly terrorist attacks, as well as payments to families of those killed in connection with the conflict. The controversy surrounding this system is that financial support was provided even in cases involving the murder of innocent Jewish civilians, including mothers, fathers and children. Critics argue that such payments can reward violence rather than discourage it. The Palestinian Authority has defended these payments as social welfare, and announced reforms in 2025. However, serious questions remain about how those reforms have been implemented. I wanted to write a song that asks a simple moral question: How can we live in the twenty-first century and accept a system in which someone who murders an innocent human being may become eligible for financial support because of that act? This song is about that question, about Jewish lives, and about the responsibility to confront the rewarding of terrorism. PAY TO SLAY Lyrics, Music and Artistic Adaptation by Yuda Meitav Welcome to the twenty-first century. Where murder has a price. Where blood becomes a pension. Where terror brings a reward. They call it… Pay to Slay! In the hills of Judea, the valleys of old, Where our Jewish ancestors’ stories were told, In Samaria’s mountains, beneath the same sky, A Jewish mother fears as her children pass by. Not for the thunder, not for the rain, But the price they have placed on her children’s pain. A knife in the darkness, a bullet by day, And somebody’s counting what somebody will pay. What kind of world have we made? When a life has a price and a killer gets paid? What kind of law, what kind of reward, Turns the blood of the innocent into a sword? Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! A Jewish life taken, and somebody gets paid! Hey! Hey! What do you say? When murder is rewarded, who will stand in its way? Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! In Judea and Samaria, hear what we say! Hey! Hey! No more delay! No reward for terror, no blood money today! On the land of our fathers, where our history began, An Arab attacker with a weapon in hand, Can leave a Jewish family with an empty chair, While a payment system waits for the family over there. A Jewish father, a daughter going home, A family left waiting beside the telephone. One terrible moment, one terrible day, And somewhere a payment is coming their way. Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! A Jewish life taken, and somebody gets paid! Hey! Hey! What do you say? When murder is rewarded, who will stand in its way? Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! In Judea and Samaria, hear what we say! Hey! Hey! No more delay! No reward for terror, no blood money today! Hitler had a Final Solution, a monstrous decree, To wipe out the Jews, erase their history. He built a machine where murder was the aim, And millions of Jewish lives were lost in its name. Now another century, another system of pay, The Palestinian Authority stands accused today. Not gas chambers, not the same design, But money tied to violence, another warning sign. A so-called solution? Is that what we’ve become? Put a price on Jewish blood and reward what has been done? Different methods, different day, Why should a killer’s crime ever bring pay? Hitler called it the Final Solution. Today, a different system. When an authority pays prisoners, When families receive financial support, Including those convicted of killing Jews… Is murder a crime? Or a transaction? Is a Jewish child a human being? Or a price on somebody’s account? Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! A Jewish life taken, and somebody gets paid! Hey! Hey! What do you say? When murder is rewarded, who will stand in its way? Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! No blood money can wash the shame away! Hey! Hey! Hear what we say! Jewish lives are not yours to trade away! Hey! Hey! Pay to slay! In Judea and Samaria, we’re here to stay! Hey! Hey! No more delay! Let the whole world hear what we’re saying today! Judea. Samaria. Our ancestors walked these hills. Their children still live here. It’s the twenty-first century. Why is there a reward connected to the killing of a Jewish child? Pay to Slay. No more.

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No more attics for me. No more gas chambers for me. No more ghettos. No more telling me who I am, what I should be, or what I should do, just so you can feel good about yourself. יאללה, יאללה, תתחפף! (Yalla, yalla, titchafef! — Come on, get lost! Get out of my face!) There’s a new Jew in the neighborhood. I’m the Israeli Jew, and I’m not going anywhere. GET USED TO IT! YOU WON’T FIND ME IN THE ATTIC AGAIN There’s a new Jew in the neighborhood, Not the one you understood. Not the one who bowed his head, Not the one who lived in dread. You think you know me? Think again! I’m not the Jew you knew back then. I’ve got a country, I’ve got a name, And I’m not playing your old game! You want me frightened, you want me small, You want my back against the wall. But take a look, what do you see? A brand-new Jew, and that Jew is me! Az yalla, yalla, tit-kha-fef! Take your hatred, take what’s left! There’s a new Jew in the neighborhood, And he’s here for good, understood? Az yalla, yalla, tit-kha-fef! No more begging, no more regrets! I’ve got my homeland, I’ve got my pride, And I’m never gonna run and hide! You won’t find me in the attic again! You won’t find me in the attic again! Pharaoh tried, Babylon too, Greeks and Romans thought we’re through. Spain came knocking, fires burned, Still the wheels of history turned. You built your empires, watched them fall, But we’re still standing through it all. You had your moment, had your day, Now hear what this new Jew has to say! Az yalla, yalla, tit-kha-fef! Take your hatred, take what’s left! There’s a new Jew in the neighborhood, And he’s here for good, understood? Az yalla, yalla, tit-kha-fef! No more begging, no more regrets! I’ve got my homeland, I’ve got my pride, And I’m never gonna run and hide! Nineteen-thirties, doors were closed, The world stood silent, heaven knows. Attics, ghettos, cattle trains, We carry every loss and name. You may forget, but we remember, Every life and every ember. We learned the lesson, paid the price, And we won’t be sacrificed twice! Hey! Let me introduce myself! I’m the Jew with a country! I’m the Jew with a flag! I’m the Jew with an army, And I’m never going back! You can shout, you can threaten, You can tell me what to be. But you don’t write my future, And you don’t get to silence me! Look me straight into the eyes, I’ve got no reason to apologize! Az yalla, yalla, tit-kha-fef! Take your hatred, take what’s left! There’s a new Jew in the neighborhood, And he’s here for good, understood? Az yalla, yalla, tit-kha-fef! We’ve got our future, we’ve got our strength! I’ve got my homeland, I’ve got my pride, And I’m never gonna run and hide! You won’t find me in the attic again! You won’t put me on a cattle train! You won’t send me to a camp again! You won’t throw me from my home again! There’s a new Jew in the neighborhood, Not the one you understood! I’m Israeli, I’m standing free, And that new Jew… THAT NEW JEW IS ME! AZ YALLA, YALLA, TIT-KHA-FEF! ⸻ Music, lyrics and artistic direction by Yehuda Meitav.

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I wrote this song because I want the world to understand something. Throughout history, nations and societies have built magnificent monuments to celebrate their identity, their achievements, their culture, and their pride in who they are. France built the Eiffel Tower. America gave the world the Statue of Liberty. Australia built the Sydney Opera House. Egypt gave us the pyramids, India the Taj Mahal, and China the Great Wall. These monuments represent human ambition, creativity, beauty, and the desire to leave something meaningful for future generations. And then there is Gaza. Gaza had something extraordinary: a beautiful Mediterranean coastline, land, opportunities, and billions of dollars in international assistance over the years. Imagine what Gaza could have become. A thriving coastal city, beautiful hotels, universities, hospitals, gardens, cultural centres, and a prosperous future for its children. Instead, Hamas invested enormous resources in underground tunnels, weapons, rockets, and preparations for war. While other societies built monuments reaching towards the sky, Hamas built tunnels beneath the feet of its own people. And what did that achieve? Look at Gaza today. Look at the destruction, the suffering, the shattered homes, and the lives devastated by war. On October 7, Hamas chose to invade Israel, murder innocent people, and take hostages. Hamas knew that such an attack would bring war, yet it made that choice. And now, once again, the world is being encouraged to blame the Jews and Israel for everything. I reject that narrative. Hamas bears responsibility for its murderous attack, its militarisation of Gaza, and the choices that helped bring devastation upon the people it claimed to represent. Those who knowingly supported and celebrated its atrocities must also confront their responsibility. The innocent civilians of Gaza deserved a different future. Their children deserved schools, playgrounds, opportunities, and peace instead of tunnels and war. I wrote this song to ask one simple question: When the world was building wonders, why was Hamas digging tunnels? And that is why I called this song: AND GAZA HAS ITS TUNNELS Lyrics, Music and Artistic Direction by Yehuda Meitav ⸻ AND GAZA HAS ITS TUNNELS Paris has its Eiffel Tower, Standing proud through every hour. Italy has Pisa leaning, Centuries of art and meaning. New York holds her liberty, A torch for all the world to see. Holland’s canals, where waters flow, China’s Great Wall, row on row. Australia’s Opera House shines bright, Like sails beneath the southern light. And lurking where the shadows run, A spider builds its funnel. But Gaza, Gaza has its tunnels! Miles and miles beneath the ground. While the world was building wonders, Hamas kept on digging down. Oh Hamas, what did you do? What kind of future did you pursue? The world built bridges, reaching through, You built your tunnels to attack the Jew! Mount Rushmore carved into the stone, A nation’s history proudly shown. Egypt’s pyramids touch the sky, Ancient wonders standing high. India built the Taj Mahal, A timeless work admired by all. From Rome to Athens, stone by stone, The world made wonders of its own. They built for beauty, built for pride, For generations side by side. But underneath the Gaza streets, Hamas prepared for war, not peace. And Gaza, Gaza has its tunnels! Not a wonder, not a crown. While the world was building upwards, Hamas kept on digging down. You had the coastline, had the land, A chance to build with your own hands. Schools and gardens, streets of light, A future peaceful, warm and bright. But you chose rockets, chose the gun, And tunnels hidden from the sun. And those who cheered your violent way, Must answer for the price today. Then October seventh came, And innocent lives went up in flames. You murdered, kidnapped, brought despair, And left your victims everywhere. You knew that war would follow through, You knew what armies came to do. You chose the fire, lit the fuse, Then pointed fingers at the Jews. Hush, hush, hush, Hamas! Don’t you dare blame the Jew! You chose the road of violence, And those who backed it chose it too! Hush, hush, hush, Hamas! What are you going to do? The war you started devastated Gaza, And you must answer for what you do! Look at the rubble, look at the stone, Look at the streets that once were home. Beneath those streets your tunnels ran, The hidden heart of your war plan. You built beneath the people’s feet, Beneath their houses, beneath their streets. And now the world can plainly see, The bitter cost of your strategy. Israel did not choose October seven, The Jewish families did not choose that day. Hamas launched its murderous attack, And brought a war its people had to pay. And those who knowingly cheered the killing, Who helped the killers carry through, Must face the weight of their own choices, Not hide behind the words “the Jew.” Hush, hush, hush, Hamas! Don’t you dare blame the Jew! You started this with murder, And your supporters backed you too! Hush, hush, hush, Hamas! The world is watching you! You built your tunnels for destruction, Now answer for the harm you do! Paris has its Eiffel Tower, New York holds liberty high. Sydney has its Opera House, Its sails against the sky. And Gaza has its tunnels, Beneath the ruins, out of view. A monument to Hamas’s choices, And the devastation that ensued. Hush, hush, hush, Hamas… Don’t you dare blame the Jew. The responsibility for your choices… Is on you.

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FAKE IT UNTIL YOU MAKE IT Music, Lyrics & Artistic Direction by Yehuda Meitav Welcome to Pallywood All right! Let’s fake it until we make it! Lights! Camera! Action! Lights! Lights! Camera! Action! What’s the mood? PALLYWOOD! Roll the cameras! Cue the tears! We’ve been making movies here for years! Need a doctor? Need a star? Need a reporter from afar? One man, twenty different faces, Same old actor, different places! Yesterday he played a doctor, Today he’s dressed in camouflage, Tomorrow he’s a TV reporter, What a wonderful montage! Fake it till you make it! Welcome to Pallywood! Take a picture, crop it, shake it, Make it look like Hollywood! Fake it till you make it! Hollywood wishes it could! Lights, camera, everybody panic! Welcome to Pallywood! Children starving! Smoke all around! Bombs exploding! Buildings falling down! Wow! Wow! Wow! What a dramatic scene! Give that man an Oscar! Get it on the screen! Snowstorms in the desert! Floodwaters rising high! The director screams, “More thunder!” As the cameras multiply! More smoke! More tears! More drama over here! Keep those cameras rolling, We’ve got a premiere! CUT! The smoke machine stops blowing, The actors dust their shoes, They head down to the restaurant, To celebrate the news! One orders extra hummus, One wants another plate, The director checks his ratings, “Fantastic! This is great!” ABC! BBC! CNN! Here comes the breaking news again! Who’s checking where the pictures came from? Who’s checking what, and why, and when? ABC! BBC! CNN! Roll that footage once again! Was it filmed today or yesterday? Who checked the source before the play? And dude! Yes, YOU! You fell for it, dude! You fell for it, dude! You fell for Pallywood! You clicked it! You shared it! You never checked if it was true! You swallowed every story, And all you did was blame the Jew! Dude! Yes, YOU! You fell for it, dude! You took the lies, you spread the lies, And then you blamed the Jew! Link is in the bio! Link is in the bio! Please send me money! Link is in the bio! Breaking news! Breaking news! Everybody pick a side! Never mind the missing context, There’s a narrative to ride! Useful idiots, here they come, Sharing stories one by one! No investigation, no hesitation, Just another standing ovation! One million views! Two million shares! Everybody’s got an opinion, Nobody knows what’s really there! And somewhere underneath the noise, Real people suffer, real children cry, But somebody’s selling tickets To a beautifully packaged lie. If the pain is real, why decorate it? If the truth is strong, why imitate it? Why put a filter on a tragedy? Why turn a life into a strategy? The truth doesn’t need a director, The truth doesn’t need a stage, The truth doesn’t need a costume, Or a perfectly edited page! Fake it till you make it! Welcome to Pallywood! Paint the scene and rearrange it, Make it look like Hollywood! Fake it till you make it! Hollywood wishes it could! Everybody wants an Oscar, Welcome to Pallywood! And dude! Yes, YOU! You fell for it, dude! You fell for it, dude! You fell for Pallywood! You didn’t need the truth, dude, You didn’t need a clue, All you needed was a story That would let you blame the Jew! All you needed was a lie! Any lie would do! You didn’t care if it was true, You just wanted to blame the Jew! Dude! Yes, YOU! I’m talking to YOU! You’d believe almost anything If it let you blame the Jew! Link is in the bio! Link is in the bio! Please send me money! Link is in the bio! Wait! Wait! Wait! Somebody checked the footage! Somebody found the date! Somebody found the original! Oh, darling, it’s too late! The correction came on Friday, The headline came on Monday, But the lie went round the planet, And the truth got lost on Sunday! Fake it till you make it! Fake it till you make it! The audience is waking up, You cannot always fake it! And dude! Yes, YOU! You fell for it, dude! You fell for Pallywood! All you needed was a lie! Any lie would do! You didn’t need the truth at all, You just needed to blame the Jew! Lights! Camera! Action! CUT! Wait a minute… Was that the same actor again? Somebody get me a new cast! And don’t forget… LINK IS IN THE BIO!

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HEY JEW (DON’T BE YOU) Lyrics, Music & Artistic Direction by Hugo de Meta You say, hey Jew, don’t be you, Why can’t you be somebody new? You say, hey Jew, hide your Star of David, Why must the world know it’s you? You say, hey Jew, take down your mezuzah, Why display it on your door? You say, hey Jew, don’t wear your kippah, Why show your faith anymore? You say, hey Jew, keep your history quiet, Keep your traditions out of view. You say, hey Jew, just try to fit in, Why must you insist on being you? Hey Jew, don’t be you, Hey Jew, what are you gonna do? Not here, not there, Not anywhere, Where do you expect me to go? Hey Jew, don’t be you, Hey Jew, what am I supposed to do? You tell me to leave, But where should I be? Where is the place for a Jew? From Canada to America, From Australia across the sea, I hear the questions of belonging, And what my future’s meant to be. Some tell me I should go elsewhere, Some question where my roots began. And when I speak of Israel, They question my connection to that land. So tell me, where am I supposed to go? Where do you want me to be? If every road leads to another closed door, Where is the place for me? Hey Jew, don’t be you, Hey Jew, what am I supposed to do? Not here, not there, Not anywhere, Where do you expect me to go? My people crossed the centuries, Through every changing tide. We carried songs and memories, And kept our faith alive. We built our homes and families, We gave the world our art. And wherever life has taken us, We’ve carried who we are. Should I change my name tomorrow? Should I hide the songs I sing? Should I silence all my memories, And forget what they mean? Should I hide my children’s history? Should I forget the land I knew? Should I become somebody else, Just to be accepted by you? HEY YOU! Now listen to what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna stand right here, And look straight back at you. I’m gonna hold a mirror high, And let the world see through. Hey you, I’m not gonna hide, I’m not gonna run away. I’m gonna wear my Star of David, Every single day. My mezuzah’s on my doorway, My kippah’s on my head. I’ll pray to Adonai, Like my fathers always did. Hey you, I won’t be you, I won’t let prejudice tell me what to do. I won’t surrender who I am, Or hide the history of my land. Hey you, I won’t be you, And my children will know it too. I don’t need your permission, To be everything I am. I will stand here with my people, And I’ll proudly take my stand. You see a stranger standing, I see a human face. You question my belonging, I ask for equal space. Where some would plant division, I’ll plant another tree. Where some would choose silence, I’ll sing of being free. Hey you, look into the mirror, Tell me what you see. Is it really my identity, Or the fear of someone different from thee? It’s not my Star of David, It’s not the prayers I say. It’s the prejudice we must confront, If we’re to find a better way. Hey you, I won’t be you, I won’t let hatred tell me what to do. I choose to live, I choose to build, A world with hope and kindness filled. My roots are deep in history, In Jerusalem, in Zion. And wherever Jews may live today, Our story carries on. We belong where we build our lives, With dignity and pride. Our homeland is part of our history, And our faith lives deep inside. Hey you, take a good look, Because I’m not going away. I was Jewish yesterday, And I’m Jewish here today. Hey you, I won’t be you, I won’t let hatred tell me what to do. I won’t disappear, I won’t deny, I won’t let my identity die. You say, hey Jew, don’t be you? Don’t tell me what to be. I’m a Jew. I love being a Jew. And I will NEVER be you.

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Hi everyone! I’m delighted to announce that my album “October 7: Dark Clouds in Heaven” is finally available on Amazon Music! All nine songs are now available for you to listen to or purchase. This album is very close to my heart. I created it not only to honour the memory of those we lost on October 7, but also to make sure their stories, their voices, and the events of that terrible day are never forgotten. I truly recommend this album to everyone who believes that October 7 must be remembered, not just today, but every year, for generations to come. Music has the power to preserve memories, tell stories, and touch hearts in ways that words alone sometimes cannot. We remember. We honour. We will never forget. Thank you all for your incredible love and support. With love, Yehuda Meitav Listen to or purchase the album on Amazon Music using the link below.

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TAKE THE RED PILL By Yehuda Meitav “Take the red pill… and I’ll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” Last night I watched The Matrix again. And I got stuck on that one scene. Morpheus standing in front of Neo, holding out two pills. The blue pill — stay comfortable, stay asleep, believe whatever you want to believe. The red pill — wake up, see reality as it is, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. And it hit me… this isn’t just a movie scene. It’s a choice people make every single day. What if you actually took the red pill? What if you started asking the uncomfortable questions — not the easy ones, not the ones that fit neatly into a narrative, but the ones that go deeper? What if history wasn’t just reduced to slogans? What if you looked at how far back things go — to empires, to decisions, to names given and identities shaped over centuries? What if you asked why conflicts repeat themselves? What if you asked what happens when one side attacks, and the other responds — and then the cycle continues? What if you stripped everything down to cause and effect? Would things look different? Would you still see the world in black and white? Or would you start to see something far more complicated — something far less comfortable? Because the truth is, reality is rarely simple. It’s layers. It’s history. It’s decisions stacked on top of decisions. And once you see it — you can’t unsee it. That’s the thing about the red pill. You don’t take it because it feels good. You take it because you’re ready to stop pretending. How Deep Does the Rabbit Hole Go? Now I’m offering you the red pill. And this is where the rabbit hole starts to go deeper. What if you go back to the time of Hadrian, after the Bar Kokhba revolt? What if you ask why the land once called Judea was renamed Syria Palaestina? A name wasn’t just changed — a narrative was rewritten. Many historians see it as a Roman attempt to weaken and distance the Jewish connection to the land — to punish, to control, to reshape identity. But what if that never happened? Would the land still be called Judea — the land of the Jews? Would the name “Palestine” even exist as we know it today? Would identities, narratives, and claims look completely different? What if Jews had never been scattered across empires, sold into slavery, forced into exile? Would history in Europe have unfolded the same way? Would centuries of persecution expulsions, pogroms, even the Holocaust — have taken the same path? Or would everything have been different? What If the Attacks Never Happened? And now come forward. What if, in our own time, attacks didn’t happen? What if rockets were never fired from Gaza? What if Hamas never carried out attacks? What if Hezbollah never fired from the north? What if Iran didn’t fund and arm groups in conflict with Israel? What would Israel look like then? Would it still build the same level of military power? Would it still strike Gaza, Lebanon, or beyond? Would fear define everyday life? Or would things be quieter… different… maybe even peaceful? Because here is the uncomfortable truth: Actions don’t happen in a vacuum — they are responses to something that came before. And every action leaves a mark — on both sides. So the deeper question isn’t just who is right. It’s: What creates the cycle? What keeps feeding it? And what would happen if it actually stopped? Because maybe — just maybe — if the attacks stopped, the responses would too. The Final Layer And here’s the final layer of the red pill. If you really look at The Matrix, those who take the red pill don’t just wake up. They defend what’s left of their truth. They defend one place. They defend one home. They defend Zion.

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Shana Meyerson TWO VOICES. ONE MISSION. SUPER ZIONIST. NO FILTERS! Shana Meyerson & Yuda Meitav are joining forces for a brand-new podcast! 🎙️ HERO ISRAEL 🇮🇱 Super Zionist. Unapologetic. Bold conversations, powerful stories, a little chutzpah, and a whole lot of heart! COMING SOON! Want to be part of the excitement before we even hit the airwaves? Subscribe now and help us build the buzz! Every new subscriber brings us one step closer to launching something truly special. Let’s make some noise before the microphones even go live! Buckle up… this is going to be one hell of a ride! https://www.youtube.com/@HeroIsraelPodcast

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I was inspired to write this song by the movie The Matrix, and particularly by the choice between the red pill and the blue pill. I look at so many young people today, and I worry deeply about the future they are creating for themselves. So many have become caught up in distorted versions of history, misinformation, and ideologies they may not fully understand. They believe they are fighting for justice, yet I wonder how many have genuinely questioned the slogans they repeat, studied the history behind them, or considered the consequences of what they are supporting. What troubles me most is that some of these young people, while believing they are building a better world, may actually be destroying their own future without even realizing it. And that is why I wrote this song. If I could, I would offer every one of them the red pill. I would take them down the rabbit hole of reality, through the pages of history, through the suffering of innocent people, through the stories that have been forgotten, rewritten, or deliberately ignored. Not to tell them what to think, but to encourage them to open their eyes, ask questions, challenge what they have been told, and discover the truth for themselves. Because before you can change the world, you must first understand it. And before you destroy something in the name of justice, you had better understand what you are destroying. The rabbit hole goes much deeper than you think. Perhaps it’s time to take the red pill, before it’s too late. TAKE THE RED PILL Lyrics, Music & Artistic Adaptation by Yehuda Meitav ⸻ Take the red pill, Come and follow me, Down the rabbit hole, There’s another world to see. Blue pill, sweet dreams, Everything’s all right. Red pill, open your eyes, Step into the light. What if the world Isn’t what you’ve been told? What if the truth Lies buried beneath the old? What if, what if, What if we could see? What if, what if, Truth could set us free? Take the red pill, Let the questions begin. Turn back the pages, See the world we’re living in. What if a name Could bury a past? What if a shadow Could centuries last? Judea was here Before Hadrian’s decree. What if our people Had never been forced to flee? What if the rockets Never crossed the sky? What if the children Never learned to hide? What if the sirens Never broke the dawn? What if the fear We carry was gone? Would the soldiers still march? Would the aircraft still fly? Would the mothers still tremble When they looked at the sky? What if, what if, The cycle could end? What if an enemy Could become a friend? Take the red pill, Don’t turn away. Ask the questions, Let the truth have its say. Take the red pill, Let the truth unfold. Not every story Is the story you’ve been told. And when the world turns cold, And darkness gathers round, The last free people Are standing their ground. There’s a city in the darkness, There’s a light that carries on. There’s a home worth defending, There’s a place they call Zion. Zion… Zion… They defend one place. They defend one home. They defend Zion. Take the red pill… And I’ll show you how deep The rabbit hole goes.

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BRING YOUR LIGHT HOME — THE THIRD TEMPLE I wrote this song because I believe it carries an urgent warning to Jewish people everywhere, in Israel and throughout the diaspora. I believe that one of the greatest dangers we face today is not only the hatred directed at us from outside, but the division growing among us from within. We are weakening ourselves by forgetting the very thing that has sustained us for thousands of years: our unity with one another and our connection to God. We have become so occupied with our differences, our arguments, and our disagreements that sometimes we forget we belong to the same people, share the same extraordinary history, and carry the same responsibility. Our sages taught us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of Sinat Chinam — baseless hatred among our own people. And I wonder whether we are being given another opportunity to learn that lesson. I believe this is our chance to build the Third Temple. But if you imagine the Third Temple simply as a magnificent structure made of stone, I invite you to consider something much deeper. What if the Third Temple is actually us? What if every Jewish soul is a brick made of divine light? Each one of us carries a piece of something sacred. But scattered across the world, divided by hatred, those bricks cannot form the sanctuary they were meant to create. Only when we come together can those individual lights become something greater than ourselves. Not half of us. Not some of us. All of us. Those who live by faith, those who search through spirituality, those who question, those who struggle, and those who have travelled different paths. Every one of us has a place. Because perhaps God is not waiting for us to build Him a house of stone. Perhaps He is waiting for us to become the home in which His presence can dwell. And when we achieve that unity, we become a light not only to ourselves, but to the entire world. This is the choice before us. We can continue allowing Sinat Chinam to divide us, weakening the very foundation of our people, or we can choose Ahavat Chinam — unconditional love — and begin building something extraordinary together. The Third Temple, as I envision it, begins with every act of kindness, every reconciliation, every hand extended to another. Every soul is a brick of light. And every brick matters. I wrote this song to remind us that perhaps the calling we are waiting to hear has already begun. The question is not whether God is calling us to unite. The question is whether we are finally ready to listen. ⸻ BRING YOUR LIGHT HOME The Third Temple Lyrics, Music & Artistic Direction by Yehuda Meitav Can you hear it in the silence? Can you feel it in the air? A thousand scattered lights are calling, Like a whispered ancient prayer. Every soul a sacred stone, Every heart a flame of light, But alone we cannot build What was meant to shine so bright. Bring your light, bring your light, Bring your scattered stone tonight, Not a few, not half of us, Every soul must reunite. Stone by stone and heart to heart, Let no hatred tear apart What was always meant to be, A home for God’s divinity. Sinat Khinam, hear the warning, We have walked this road before, When we turned against each other, There was no Temple anymore. Now the heavens call upon us, Will we listen, will we see? What was broken by division Can be healed through unity. Bring your light, bring your light, Bring your scattered stone tonight, Not a few, not half of us, Every soul must reunite. Some with faith and some with questions, Different voices, one great soul, Ahavat Khinam, bring us together, Make the scattered people whole. Not a palace made of stone, Not a throne of shining gold, But a place where God can dwell, In the love our hearts can hold. We are the stones, we are the light, Scattered stars across the night, Not tomorrow, not someday, We are being called today. Bring your light, bring your light, Let our hearts become as one, And when every stone is gathered, The Third Temple has begun. We are the Temple, We are the light, And God will dwell Where hearts unite.

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Sinat Chinam (Baseless Hatred), the Walls of Jericho, and the Third Temple The other day I came across an article discussing the story of the walls of Jericho and what caused them to collapse according to the scriptures. The more I looked into it, the more fascinated I became. It wasn’t a conventional battle. No siege engines. No overwhelming military force. Instead, the story describes something unusual: the people of Israel moving together, circling the city in perfect order. Priests carrying the Ark, the sound of the shofar, silence, discipline—and then, at the exact moment, one unified shout. And the walls collapsed. The more I thought about it, the more I realized something powerful: the story is really about unity. Perfect alignment. Perfect harmony. Many voices becoming one. That unity broke the walls of the enemy. And it made me think about something that has been troubling me lately. The Strength of Israel Right now Israel is strong. Militarily strong. Economically strong. Technologically strong. Our enemies know this. They know they cannot defeat Israel in a conventional war. They know that economically we continue to thrive despite every campaign to boycott Israeli goods and technology. On nearly every front—military, economic, scientific—we are succeeding. But there is one place where cracks can appear. And it is not on the battlefield. It is inside the house. Throughout history, the Jewish people survived not because we always had an army or economic power. For most of our history we had neither. Yet we survived. What made us strong was something else entirely. Unity. At the very beginning, what united us was the desire for freedom from slavery in Egypt. Then it was our faith in the God who promised that freedom. Then it was the land promised to us. Then it was the Torah, the mitzvot, and the ethical laws that shaped us into a people. And finally, our mission—to repair the world, Tikkun Olam. These things bound Jews together across continents and centuries. The Danger Within But lately I see something worrying. Across the diaspora and even within Israel itself, cracks are appearing. Division is growing. Jewish voices turning against one another, sometimes even against the Jewish people as a whole. Our tradition already warned us about this. The sages taught that the Second Temple was destroyed because of Sinat Chinam (baseless hatred between Jews). Not because Rome was stronger. Because we weakened ourselves from within. And I wonder if we have forgotten that lesson. Our enemies are watching. They know something that history has shown again and again: great nations rarely collapse because an enemy defeats them from the outside. More often, they collapse when they begin tearing themselves apart from within. Which brings me back to Jericho. Unity can break walls. But division can bring them down. The Third Temple And maybe this leads to another thought. Perhaps the Temple is not only a building. Perhaps it never was just a structure of stone and wood. Maybe the Temple is us. Each of us a stone. Each of us a brick. A living structure built from unity. If Sinat Chinam (baseless hatred) destroyed the Second Temple, perhaps Ahavat Chinam (unconditional love for one another) is what will build the Third. Maybe we are not waiting for a building to rise in Jerusalem. Maybe we are waiting for something far more powerful. A people who remember who they are. A people who refuse to hate one another. A people who stand together again. Let’s Build the Third Temple So to my brothers and sisters—Jews in Israel and Jews across the world: Let’s build the Third Temple. Not with stone. With unity. Because we did not survive thousands of years of exile, persecution, and struggle only to forget the one thing that always protected us. Our strength was never only our army. Our strength was always each other.

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BRING ME HOME The Story of the Bnei Anousim I wrote this song in collaboration with Yaffah Batya daCosta, who approached me with something she felt was urgent and deeply important. She wanted to bring my attention to a part of our Jewish family that many people around the world know very little about: our brothers and sisters known as the Bnei Anousim. But who are they? More than 500 years ago, during the persecution of Jews in Spain and Portugal, countless Jewish families were forced to choose between abandoning their faith, leaving their homes, or facing terrible consequences. Many were forced to convert to Christianity. Some continued to practise their Jewish traditions secretly, passing fragments of their heritage from parents to children, often at enormous personal risk. Their descendants became known as Bnei HaAnusim, meaning “children of the forced ones.” Today, centuries later, descendants of these families are rediscovering their Jewish roots. Many are seeking to reconnect with the Jewish people, reclaim their heritage, and, for those who wish to, find their way to the land of Israel. When Yaffah brought this story to me, I knew it was important enough to write a song about. Because to me, this is not simply a story about the past. It’s a story about identity, belonging, family, and the extraordinary resilience of the Jewish soul. I believe it is time to reach out to these long-separated branches of our family, embrace them, help them reconnect with their heritage, and support those who dream of returning to Israel. That is why we created “Bring Me Home.” My hope is that through music, we can give a voice to their story, awaken curiosity, open hearts, and encourage more people to learn about this remarkable chapter of Jewish history. Please, take a moment to learn who the Bnei HaAnusim are. Share their story. Help reconnect our people. And for those who wish to return, let’s help bring them home. Because after 500 years, their story deserves to be heard. BRING ME HOME Lyrics, Music & Artistic Direction by Yuda Meitav In collaboration with Yaffah Batya daCosta To learn more about the Bnei Anousim and the important work Yaffah and her organization, Ezra L’Anousim, are doing to help descendants of forcibly converted Jews reconnect with their Jewish roots and return to Israel, please visit https://bneianousim.org and click on the “Contact” button to get in touch. LYRICS In the streets of old Spain, five hundred years ago, They told my fathers, “Change your faith, or you must go.” Some changed their names, some hid their prayers, And kept their secrets through the years. To save their children, they concealed The ancient faith they could not reveal. Across the sea, to distant lands, They carried secrets in their hands. Through the years, memories grew thin, Till children forgot where they’d been. Bring me home, bring me home, To the people I have never known. They could silence our prayers, But not the longing in our bones. Bnei Anusim, hear our cry, We’re the children who survived. Bring me home, bring me home, Don’t leave me here alone. My grandmother lit a candle, But never told me why. She whispered words I couldn’t understand, With tears that filled her eyes. Now the stories of my ancestors Are calling me back home. I did not choose the silence, I did not choose the shame. I only seek the roots of those Whose faith could not be tamed. Bring me home, bring me home, To the people I have never known. They could silence our prayers, But not the longing in our bones. Bnei Anusim, hear our cry, We’re the children who survived. Bring me home, bring me home, Don’t leave me here alone. From Mexico to Brazil, From Colombia to Spain, We’re searching through the centuries, For the roots that still remain. Some still feel like captives, Of a past they cannot change. With open hearts we’re reaching out, To find our way again. Adonai, hear my voice, I was never given a choice. Teach me the prayers I never knew, And help me find my way to You. Bring me home, bring me home, Let me stand where I belong. Bnei Anusim, remember our name, The children who survived the flame. Open the door, let us learn, Hear the voices longing to return. Bring me home, bring me home, To my people, my faith, my home. Hidden through the centuries, Today we speak our name. Bnei Anusim. Bring us home.

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