Middle aged ?

I sit here waiting for the call to revolt

My chest is fattened by the idleness of my routines

To a future, that looks bleak, if I do not break out

They call it middle age crisis, yet I know of my youth

The blood in my veins, are still warm

Thriving for miles to go before I'm gone

Can the progeny live my dreams when I'm gone

That doesn't make sense, from what I know of life

The glorification of the lord is not only in the heavens

it is in the soul and it calls for action

Jihad doesn't happen when I sit here in the warmth of my cozy home

Millions are out there, waiting to be tended by my hands

Sacrifice also has the notion of serving

I call myself onto act for the destitute

In the name of God, who calls me to visit him when he is sick

I sure want to feed him when he is hungry

Wake up, get up, Oh, the youth of the land

In you are the dreams that are unfulfilled

return to the land, for we need your blood

I promise, Your sacrifice will not go wasted.