Arabs

 Little baby, apple of my eye, shoulda drowned you in the river with all the puppies, kittens and other people's sons, this place is hatred, everywhere I walk turns to ashen, red burning sand, rot and golden grave dust. 

I love being on the docks when the ships come in, they behead the thieves but never me, I prance and prowl and do as I please, they lower their heads and curtsy, the voluptuous girls in burkas but never me, my pale skin ablaze, sunglasses and no shoes on my feet. 

A luxury high-rise, an Arab Sheik rings the ghastly bell, my father said they're scared of me, I asked why and he said because I never sleep and I'll never die.