💔 Why Isn’t the World Talking About Iran the Way It’s Talking About Minneapolis?

I want to be very clear before anyone twists this:

Every life matters. Always. No exceptions.

The deaths in Minnesota matter. Deeply.

Renee Good’s killing shook people for a reason. The man who was shot and killed shortly after her — another life lost, another family shattered - matters just as much. Two deaths in the same place, within days of each other, both raising serious questions about power, force, and accountability. They deserve attention. They deserve outrage. They deserve wall-to-wall coverage.

But here’s where the discomfort sets in - and where silence becomes impossible to ignore.

While the media cycles endlessly through these Minnesota tragedies - replaying footage, dissecting timelines, running headline after headline - tens of thousands of people in Iran are reportedly dead, and most of the world barely hears a whisper.

Tens of thousands.

Not rumors. Not isolated claims. Estimates from credible human rights organizations and journalists suggest 30,000 or more people may have been killed amid violent crackdowns, mass arrests, disappearances, and what some are calling a massacre. Families can’t find bodies. Internet blackouts hide evidence. Graves appear without names.

And yet - where is the urgency?

If one death rightly dominates headlines for days, how is it possible that 30,000 deaths don’t dominate headlines for weeks?

This is not a competition of suffering.

It’s a reckoning with attention.

Because attention is power.

Attention is whose names we remember.

Attention is which governments feel pressure to act.

You can hold space for Minnesota - for Renee Good, for the man killed after her, for their families and communities - without erasing Iran.

You can say “this is unacceptable” about federal violence in the U.S. and say “this is catastrophic” about state violence abroad.

Compassion is not a limited resource. Media bandwidth is not a moral excuse.

And here’s the hard truth we need to say out loud:

When thousands of deaths barely make the news, it sends a message - intentional or not — about whose lives are considered globally significant.

That should haunt us.

So I’m asking what many people are quietly wondering but few are saying:

• Why isn’t what’s happening in Iran breaking news every hour on the hour?

• Why do two deaths in Minnesota - tragic and worthy of coverage - eclipse tens of thousands elsewhere?

• Who decides which lives are visible, and which are buried under silence?

Because if a few deaths can shake the world, then 30,000 should stop it cold.

Iranian lives matter.

Minnesotan lives matter.

All of them matter.

And the world deserves media brave enough - and humane enough - to cover all of it. 

I’ve sent messages directly to major media news pages, and I can only hope they wake up, pay attention, and do better.

💚🤍❤️Iran, Revolution, 0098 SOS” on Rock The Joint Magazine

Sometimes music is the message - and sometimes, the message can cost you everything. That’s the core of “Iran, Revolution, 0098 SOS” on Rock The Joint Magazine - a stunning and urgent article that refuses to look away.

This isn’t just music journalism. It’s a wake-up call. The article talks about Iranian artists like Toomaj Salehi, a rapper now facing a death sentence simply for speaking truth through his art, and highlights the arrest of Iranian street musician Zara Esmaeili for performing without hijab.

For a music site, this is brave. It puts human faces - artists risking everything for freedom of expression - front and center. It reminds us that art isn’t always safe entertainment: sometimes it’s protest, sometimes it’s survival, and sometimes it’s the only way to say “we are still here.”

Go read: Iran, Revolution, 0098 SOS - and share it. Because art matters. And people risking their lives to make it - that matters even more.

👉 Link: https://rockthejointmagazine.com/iran-revolution-0098-sos/

🔇Why Solidarity for Iran Must Continue After the Headlines Fade

Silence Is Not Neutral

In the days after releasing Iranian Lives Matter, something painful but familiar happened:

the noise faded.

Mainstream media moved on.

The world looked elsewhere.

And with that silence, fear crept in.

Many people — inside Iran, in exile, and among supporters worldwide — are worried. The internet blackout continues. Young people are being killed. Families are being shattered. And on top of all this, there is a growing sense of abandonment: the realization that no powerful foreign leader is coming to “rescue” Iran.

Let’s say this clearly, without illusions:

No one is coming to save Iran.

And that is not a reason to give up.

It is a reason to understand reality — and act accordingly.

---

The Dangerous Myth of Rescue

Some feel devastated that Donald Trump is not supporting the Pahlavi movement or publicly backing Iranian protesters. But history teaches us something uncomfortable and necessary:

Foreign intervention has never delivered freedom.

The United States went into:

• Iraq

• Afghanistan

• Syria

They stayed for nearly 20 years in some of these countries.

Look at them now.

Wars were fought. Lives were lost. Generations were traumatized. And when the cameras turned off and the troops left, the people were left with instability, corruption, and broken futures.

If anything, history tells us this:

Freedom cannot be imported. It can only be built — painfully, collectively, from within and with global moral pressure, not military domination.

---

Media Attention Is Not Justice

People are also discouraged because Iran is no longer the headline.

But ask yourself honestly:

• Gaza has been in the news for years — has that stopped the suffering?

• Ukraine has dominated media cycles — has that ended the war?

Media coverage does not equal solutions.

It fills programming schedules.

It rarely saves lives.

What does matter is consistent human pressure:

• documentation

• solidarity

• refusal to normalize violence

• refusal to forget

Silence is not peace.

Silence is permission.

---

To Those Losing Hope

If you are Iranian and exhausted — your exhaustion is justified.

If you are in exile and feel powerless — your pain is real.

If you are a non-Iranian supporter wondering whether your voice matters — it does.

This moment is not about saviors.

It is about witnesses.

History does not only remember heroes and tyrants.

It remembers who spoke — and who chose comfort over conscience.

History will remember those who stood up for Iran — and those who looked away.

---

Do Not Let the Deaths Be for Nothing

The people being killed today are not statistics.

They are not content.

They are not “another tragic update.”

They are lives.

And if the world goes quiet now, if we go quiet now, then the violence succeeds twice: once in the streets, and once in memory.

This is exactly why momentum matters after headlines fade.

Not louder.

Not more violent.

Just steadier.

---

What Solidarity Still Looks Like

Solidarity today means:

• continuing to speak when it’s uncomfortable

• sharing stories when algorithms don’t reward them

• refusing to let Iran become “old news”

• supporting Iranians without projecting fantasies or savior narratives onto them

It means understanding that progress is slow, uneven, and deeply human.

And it means remembering one simple truth:

We are still alive.

ما هنوز زنده‌ایم

Wir leben noch.

---

To Humanity, Everywhere

This is not just an Iranian issue.

It is a human one.

Every time we allow brutality to be normalized because it is inconvenient, distant, or politically complex, we lower the standard for all of us.

So no — do not give up.

Do not let silence win.

Do not let fear rewrite memory.

History is watching.

And what we do now is what will be remembered.

I’m not naïve for believing in humanity.
I’m refusing to let cruelty define the future.

سکوت بی‌طرفی نیست

در روزهای پس از انتشار آهنگ Iranian Lives Matter، اتفاقی افتاد که برای بسیاری از ما آشناست:
سروصدا فروکش کرد.
رسانه‌های جریان اصلی به موضوعات دیگر رفتند.
و جهان، دوباره، نگاهش را برگرداند.

با این سکوت، ترس هم آمد.

بسیاری — در داخل ایران، در تبعید، و در میان حامیان جهانی — نگران‌اند. اینترنت قطع است. جوانان کشته می‌شوند. خانواده‌ها داغدارند. و هم‌زمان، احساس رهاشدگی عمیق‌تر می‌شود: این آگاهی تلخ که هیچ رهبر قدرتمند خارجی قرار نیست ایران را «نجات» دهد.

بیایید این را صادقانه بگوییم، بدون توهم:

هیچ‌کس قرار نیست ایران را نجات دهد.
و این دلیلی برای تسلیم شدن نیست.
این دلیلی است برای دیدن واقعیت — و ادامه دادن.

---

افسانه خطرناک نجات از بیرون

بعضی‌ها از این که دونالد ترامپ از جنبش پادشاهی یا معترضان ایرانی حمایت نمی‌کند، ناامید شده‌اند. اما تاریخ یک درس مهم و دردناک به ما می‌دهد:

دخالت خارجی هرگز آزادی نیاورده است.

آمریکا به:

• عراق

• افغانستان

• سوریه

رفت و در بعضی کشورها نزدیک به ۲۰ سال ماند.

نتیجه را امروز می‌بینیم.

جنگ‌ها، کشته‌ها، نسل‌های زخمی — و وقتی دوربین‌ها خاموش شد و نیروها رفتند، مردم با بی‌ثباتی و ویرانی تنها ماندند.

تاریخ به ما می‌گوید:

آزادی وارداتی نیست. آزادی ساخته می‌شود — سخت، جمعی، و با فشار اخلاقی جهانی، نه سلطه نظامی.

---

توجه رسانه‌ای، عدالت نیست

بعضی‌ها دلسرد شده‌اند چون ایران دیگر تیتر اول نیست.

اما صادق باشیم:

• غزه سال‌هاست در اخبار است — آیا رنج پایان یافته؟

• اوکراین سال‌هاست پوشش رسانه‌ای دارد — آیا جنگ تمام شده؟

رسانه‌ها مشکل را حل نمی‌کنند.
برنامه‌هایشان را پُر می‌کنند.

آنچه اهمیت دارد فشار انسانیِ مداوم است:

• ثبت حقیقت

• همبستگی

• نپذیرفتن عادی‌سازی خشونت

• و فراموش نکردن

سکوت صلح نیست.
سکوت اجازه است.

---

برای کسانی که امیدشان در حال از دست رفتن است

اگر ایرانی هستی و خسته‌ای — حق داری.
اگر در تبعید احساس ناتوانی می‌کنی — درد تو واقعی‌ست.
اگر غیرایرانی هستی و نمی‌دانی صدایت فایده دارد یا نه — دارد.

این لحظه درباره منجی‌ها نیست.
درباره شاهدان است.

تاریخ فقط قهرمانان و ظالمان را به یاد نمی‌سپارد.
به یاد می‌سپارد چه کسانی ایستادند — و چه کسانی نگاهشان را برگرداندند.

تاریخ کسانی را که برای ایران ایستادند به یاد خواهد داشت —
و کسانی را که روی برگرداندند.

---

نگذاریم مرگ‌ها بی‌معنا شوند

کشته‌شدگان آمار نیستند.
محتوا نیستند.
خبر زودگذر نیستند.

آن‌ها زندگی بودند.

اگر امروز ساکت شویم، خشونت دو بار پیروز می‌شود:
یک‌بار در خیابان‌ها —
و یک‌بار در حافظه.

به همین دلیل است که ادامه دادن، بعد از خاموش شدن تیترها، مهم است.

نه بلندتر.
نه خشن‌تر.
فقط پایدارتر.

---

همبستگی امروز یعنی چه؟

یعنی:

• حرف زدن وقتی سخت است

• به اشتراک گذاشتن حقیقت وقتی الگوریتم‌ها پاداش نمی‌دهند

• اجازه ندادن به این که ایران «خبر کهنه» شود

• حمایت از ایرانیان بدون فرافکنی رؤیاهای نجات‌بخش

یعنی پذیرفتن این که مسیر طولانی، نابرابر و انسانی‌ست.

و یعنی به یاد داشتن یک حقیقت ساده:

ما هنوز زنده‌ایم.

---

خطاب به انسانیت، در همه‌جا

این فقط مسئله ایران نیست.
مسئله انسان است.

هر بار که اجازه می‌دهیم خشونت به‌خاطر راحتی، فاصله یا پیچیدگی سیاسی عادی شود، معیار انسانیت پایین‌تر می‌آید.

پس نه — تسلیم نشو.
ساکت نشو.
اجازه نده ترس حافظه را بازنویسی کند.

تاریخ تماشا می‌کند.
و آنچه امروز می‌کنیم، به یاد خواهد ماند.

---

من ساده‌لوح نیستم که به انسانیت ایمان دارم.
من نمی‌گذارم cruelty آینده را تعریف کند.

🔇Prison of Silence — wenn eine ganze Nation eingesperrt ist!

Silence Is Violence / Prison of Silence

Warum diese beiden Songs zusammengehören

Ich hatte nicht geplant, zwei Protest-Songs direkt hintereinander zu veröffentlichen.
Einer wäre genug gewesen — emotional, künstlerisch, mental.

Aber manche Momente lassen keine Distanz zu.

Prison of Silence und Silence Is Violence sind kurz nacheinander entstanden, weil sie aus derselben Quelle kommen: Menschen leiden zu sehen, zu sehen, dass die Welt davon weiß — und zu sehen, wie viele mächtige Stimmen sich dennoch für Schweigen entscheiden.

---

Prison of Silence — wenn eine ganze Nation eingesperrt ist

Prison of Silence ist im Iran verwurzelt.

Der Song handelt von Menschen, die zum Schweigen gebracht, bestraft, eingesperrt und getötet werden, weil sie Würde und grundlegende Rechte einfordern. Von Frauen, Männern und Kindern, die nicht nur durch Gewalt, sondern auch durch Gleichgültigkeit eingesperrt sind.

Der Song spricht von:

• Millionen Leben, reduziert auf Schlagzeilen

• Stimmen, die hinter Mauern und Angst verschwinden

• einer Welt, die „zuschaut“, aber nicht handelt

Das Schweigen rund um den Iran ist nicht leer.
Es ist schwer.
Es lastet auf denen, die ohnehin gefangen sind.

Deshalb sind die Bilder und Worte in Prison of Silence zurückhaltend und menschlich. Dieser Song ist kein Spektakel. Er handelt von Würde — und davon, was passiert, wenn Würde verweigert wird, während andere wegsehen.

Silence Is Violence — wenn Schweigen zur Entscheidung wird

Silence Is Violence ist lauter, schneller, wütender.

Der Song entstand aus Frustration — nicht nur über Regierungen und Institutionen, sondern auch über öffentliche Figuren, Prominente und Influencer mit enormer Reichweite, die sich entscheiden, sie nicht zu nutzen.

Nur wenige haben sich für den Iran ausgesprochen.

Die meisten haben geschwiegen.

Dieser Song existiert, weil Schweigen oft als Neutralität, Vorsicht oder Strategie dargestellt wird. Doch Schweigen hat Konsequenzen. Schweigen verzögert. Schweigen schützt Macht.

Deshalb arbeitet Silence Is Violence mit Wiederholung, mehreren Sprachen und Dringlichkeit. Der Song erklärt nicht — er besteht darauf. Er bittet nicht — er fordert.

Die Botschaft ist einfach, weil sie es sein muss:

Schweigen ist nicht passiv. Schweigen ist eine Form von Gewalt.

---

Zwei Songs, eine Wahrheit

Auch wenn der eine Song im Iran verwurzelt ist und der andere global spricht, sind sie untrennbar miteinander verbunden.

• Prison of Silence zeigt, was Schweigen Menschen antut

• Silence Is Violence konfrontiert jene, die still bleiben

Der eine ist das Zeugnis.

Der andere ist die Anklage.

Gemeinsam stellen sie eine Frage, auf die es keine bequeme Antwort gibt:

Was bedeutet es zu schweigen, wenn man es besser weiß?

---

Es geht nicht um Perfektion — es geht um Verantwortung

Diese Songs entstehen nicht aus moralischer Überlegenheit.

Sie entstehen aus Unbehagen.

Kunst kann Unrecht nicht beenden.

Aber Schweigen lässt es weiterbestehen.

Eine Stimme zu nutzen — unperfekt, emotional, offen — ist nicht heroisch.
Es ist das Minimum.

---

Jetzt

Beide Songs enden dort, wo sie begonnen haben: bei Dringlichkeit.

Nicht morgen.
Nicht nächste Woche.
Nicht nach dem nächsten Statement, der nächsten Verzögerung, der nächsten Ablenkung.

Jetzt.

Denn Geschichte erinnert sich nicht nur daran, was getan wurde —
sondern auch daran, wer geschwiegen hat.

🔇Silence Is Violence / Prison of Silence

Silence Is Violence / Prison of Silence - Why these two songs belong together!

I didn’t plan to release two protest songs side by side. One would have been enough — emotionally, artistically, mentally.

But some moments don’t allow distance.

Prison of Silence and Silence Is Violence were written close to each other because they come from the same place: watching people suffer, watching the world know about it, and watching far too many powerful voices choose quiet instead.

---

Prison of Silence — when an ENTIRE nation is locked away

Prison of Silence is rooted in Iran.

It is about people being silenced, punished, imprisoned, and killed for demanding dignity and basic rights. It is about women, men, and children who are locked away not only by force, but by indifference.

The song speaks about:

• millions of lives reduced to headlines

• voices erased behind walls and fear

• a world that “watches” without acting

The silence surrounding Iran is not empty.
It is heavy.
It presses down on those already trapped.

That is why the imagery and the words in Prison of Silence are restrained and human. This song is not about spectacle. It is about dignity — and about what happens when dignity is denied while others look away.

---

Silence Is Violence — when silence becomes a decision

Silence Is Violence is louder, faster, angrier.

It was written out of frustration — not only with governments and institutions, but with public figures, celebrities, and influencers who have enormous reach and choose not to use it.

Only a few have spoken up for Iran.

Most have not.

This song exists because silence is often framed as neutrality, caution, or strategy. But silence has consequences. Silence delays. Silence protects power.

That is why Silence Is Violence uses repetition, multiple languages, and urgency. It doesn’t explain — it insists. It doesn’t ask — it demands.

The message is simple because it has to be:
Silence is not passive. Silence is a form of violence.

---

Two songs, one truth

Although one song is rooted in Iran and the other speaks globally, they are inseparable.

• Prison of Silence shows what silence does to people

• Silence Is Violence confronts those who remain quiet

One is the testimony. The other is the accusation.

Together, they ask a question that has no comfortable answer:
What does it mean to stay silent when you know?

---

This is not about perfection — it’s about responsibility

These songs are not written from a place of moral superiority.
They are written from discomfort.

Art cannot fix injustice.
But silence allows it to continue.

Using a voice — imperfectly, emotionally, openly — is not heroic.
It is the minimum.

---

Now

Both songs end where they began: with urgency.

Not tomorrow.
Not next week.
Not after another statement, another delay, another distraction.

Now.

Because history does not only remember what was done —
it remembers who stayed silent. 

Iranian Lives Matter

Why this song exists

Iranian Lives Matter was written because something painfully simple needed to be said out loud.

Iranian lives matter.

Not conditionally.

Not selectively.

Not only when it fits a news cycle or political narrative.

They matter now. They always have.

---

A sentence that should not be controversial

The phrase Iranian Lives Matter should not provoke debate.

It should not require explanation.

And yet, saying it clearly still feels necessary.

Too often, Iranian lives are reduced to headlines, numbers, or geopolitical talking points. Protests become “unrest.” Deaths become “casualties.” People become abstractions.

This song exists to refuse that reduction.

---

This is not a slogan — it’s a reminder

Iranian Lives Matter is not written to compete with other movements, and it is not meant to divide. It is a reminder that empathy should not stop at borders, and that human dignity is not negotiable.

The song does not try to explain Iran.

It does not try to simplify a complex reality.

It simply insists on one truth: the people are not expendable.

---

Why music, why now

Music cannot stop violence.

It cannot free prisoners.

It cannot undo loss.

But silence allows injustice to continue comfortably.

This song is a refusal to stay quiet while people are imprisoned, harmed, or killed — and while the world grows used to it. It is a voice added to many others, imperfect but present.

Using a voice is not heroic.

It is the minimum.

---

For those who are watching — and those who are not

Iranian Lives Matter is for those inside Iran who are resisting, surviving, and demanding dignity.

It is also for those outside who are watching — or choosing not to.

If this song makes someone uncomfortable, that discomfort is part of the point. Comfort has never been a reliable guide to justice.

---

A simple truth

This song ends where it begins.

Iranian lives matter.

They matter in silence.

They matter in protest.

They matter when the cameras move on.

And they matter even when saying so feels inconvenient.

#0098🆘 We Are Still Alive: A Global Solidarity Story for Iran

A new song has been added to the '0098SOS album!

We are still alive.

In recent weeks, Iranians and allies around the world took to the streets - in Washington, Berlin, London, Paris, Toronto, Sydney, Rome, Vienna, Amsterdam, Geneva, and beyond. Different cities. Different languages. One message.

We are still alive.

ما هنوز زنده‌ایم

Wir leben noch.

Watching this global solidarity unfold moved me deeply. In a time when the world often looks away, people showed up-not for attention, not for politics, but for humanity. It reminded me that solidarity is real, that silence is a choice, and that history is watching.

This is not just a moment.

This is history.

How global protests supporting Iranians filled me with faith in humanity again

When I started writing this song - Iranian Lives Matter - I knew it would be powerful. What I didn’t expect was how deeply real the solidarity would be. In the midst of one of the most brutal crackdowns Iran has seen in years, people around the world stood up. They marched, they chanted, they raised the pre-1979 Lion and Sun flag - and they showed the world that we are not alone.

---

The Spark Within Iran

The unrest in Iran began in late December 2025, sparked by an economic crisis and protests over soaring prices after the rial collapsed. What started as demonstrations in Tehran quickly spread nationwide and evolved into political protest against theocratic rule.

Inside Iran, the government responded with brutal force, and by early January 2026, reports of entire neighborhoods protesting, massive casualties, and even internet blackouts began to surface.

This storm at home sent shockwaves through the diaspora - and the world answered.

---

Global Solidarity: Cities, Dates, Voices

Here are just a few of the major cities where Iranians and allies brought their voices to the streets in the past two weeks:

🇺🇸 Washington, D.C. — January 10, 2026

Supporters gathered outside the White House and the Iranian Interests Section, calling for international pressure on the Iranian regime. ❉

🇬🇧 London — January 10–11, 2026

Protesters rallied outside the Iranian embassy. One courageous demonstrator even removed the official Iranian flag and replaced it with the Lion and Sun flag - a symbolic act that resonated worldwide. ❉

🇫🇷 Paris — January 11, 2026

Large crowds marched in solidarity with protestors at home, demonstrating that the fight for freedom transcends borders. ❉

🇩🇪 Berlin — January 10–14, 2026

Hundreds took to the streets to demand freedom for Iranians, chanting “Woman, Life, Freedom” and calling for democratic reform. ❉

🇳🇱 Amsterdam / The Hague — January 10, 2026

Protesters rallied in central public spaces, showing that even cities not often in the headlines were filled with compassion and resolve. ❉

🇨🇦 Toronto — Early January 2026

Iranians and supporters gathered in downtown Toronto, waving flags and chanting for change with undeniable energy. ❉

🇺🇸 Los Angeles — Mid-January 2026

Iranians and supporters gathered in downtown Los Angeles, waving flags and chanting for change with powerful, undeniable energy.❉

🇦🇺 Sydney — Mid-January 2026

Solidarity marches swept through Sydney’s CBD and around the Opera House — Iranians in the southern hemisphere standing tall for their homeland. ❉

🇨🇭 Zurich & Bern — January 14, 2026

Swiss cities saw peaceful rallies in Zurich and tense scenes outside the Iranian embassy in Bern, where police used tear gas against demonstrators. ❉

🇮🇹 Rome — Mid-January 2026

Crowds gathered with Italian supporters, reflecting that this movement is not limited to one people or one geography. ❉

🇦🇹 Vienna — Mid-January 2026

Demonstrators in Vienna stood near historic sites, reminding the world that freedom is a universal heritage worth defending. ❉

(More cities and dates are being added daily - this is far from over.)

---

Why This Matters

This is not a photo album. This is history.

When people stand up across five continents, waving flags, marching for basic human dignity, and calling for justice - that’s more than a protest. That’s a global insistence that every human life matters. That no one’s pain is unseen. That even in the darkest times, humanity still cares.

I’ve watched images of these marches, listened to the chants, and felt a tremor of emotion I haven’t felt in years. It reminded me of something fundamental: We are still alive. We have a voice. And we choose to use it.

---

The Road Ahead

We will not pretend the crisis in Iran is solved - it’s not. The government continues to crack down, shut off the internet, and silence voices inside the country.

But the global response tells me something powerful:

The world is watching. And history is watching too.

Let’s keep telling the story.

Let’s keep the dates, the faces, the cities alive.

Let’s keep refusing to be invisible.

Because when the world acts in solidarity - that’s not just support. That’s hope.

🩸Daryā-ye Khoon: Why This Song Had to Be Written

There are nights when sleep feels like a betrayal.

The last days have been like that - heavy, fractured, impossible to rest through. As news from Iran filtered through broken connections, rumors, images, and messages that vanished as quickly as they appeared, it became clear that something larger than exhaustion was at work. Silence was being enforced. And silence, when imposed, is violence.

What we have been witnessing in Iran is not new - but it is escalating. Protests that began with economic despair and long-standing injustice have been met with overwhelming force. Streets have been flooded not with answers, but with fear. Communication has been cut. Trials have been rushed. Hospitals have filled. Families have been left with questions instead of bodies, with memories instead of goodbyes.

In moments like these, art is not a luxury. It is a necessity.

Daryā-ye Khoon was written as a response to that enforced silence. The phrase itself - “Ocean of Blood” - is not poetic exaggeration. It reflects the scale of pain, the feeling that grief has overflowed its banks and touched everyone, whether they are inside Iran or watching helplessly from the outside.

The song moves between English and Persian because this pain moves between worlds. Between those who live it daily and those who carry it from afar. Between public outrage and private mourning.

Lines like “ما دیدیم… ما شنیدیم…” (“We saw… We heard…”) are not metaphors. They are refusals. Refusals to accept denial. Refusals to forget. Refusals to let history be rewritten by those in power.

The Azadi Tower on the cover art stands wrapped in the colors of the Iranian flag, rooted in blood. It is not there to shock. It is there to remind us that symbols belong to people, not regimes - and that freedom is not an abstract idea when its cost is counted in lives.

This song does not pretend to save anyone. Music cannot stop bullets or undo executions. But it can remember. It can carry names across borders. It can say, clearly and without apology: this happened, and it matters.

If you are listening from Iran, know that you are not invisible.

If you are listening from elsewhere, know that attention is a responsibility.

The night will end.

But memory must not.

✨Tehran Lights: A Song Born From Heartbreak and Solidarity

Before anything else, I want to be honest.  I am devastated. I am heartbroken. And like so many others watching from afar, I often feel painfully helpless.

When the weight becomes too much, when scrolling the news feels unbearable, and silence feels wrong, the only way I know how to calm myself is to write. To put the feelings somewhere they can breathe. To give them a shape. To bring them to life through music.

Tehran Lights was born that way.  

There are songs you write because you want to say something. And there are songs you write because staying silent is no longer an option.

Tehran Lights belongs to the second kind.

I wrote this song from far away, but it was never meant to sound distant. It was written from exile, yes - but also from memory, responsibility, and love. Tehran is not just a place where I was born. It is a city that raised me, shaped me, and continues to live inside me, no matter how many borders sit between us.

A City, Not a Metaphor

In Tehran Lights, Tehran is not a symbol. It is not a backdrop. It is a living presence.

A city that watches.

A city that bleeds.

A city that refuses to disappear.

When I say “Tehran, az tariki natars” - Tehran, don’t be afraid of the darkness - I am not speaking poetically. I am speaking directly. To a city that has been forced to live under pressure, violence, censorship, and fear for decades, yet still finds ways to breathe.

From “I” to “We”

The heart of this song lives in one small but crucial shift.

The chorus begins with:

Man ba to-am - I am with you

And it ends with:

Ma ba to-im - We are with you

That change matters.

Because exile often starts with I. With loneliness. With separation. With watching from afar.

But solidarity only exists when I turns into we.

This song is not about speaking for Iran. It is about standing with it.

Three Languages, One Story

Tehran Lights moves between Farsi, English, and German - not for aesthetic reasons, but because that is how my life sounds.

Farsi carries intimacy, memory, and tenderness.

English opens the door to the outside world.

German grounds the reality of living elsewhere, of building a life while carrying another one inside you.

None of these languages cancel each other out. They coexist - just like identity in the diaspora.

Light as Resistance

The imagery of light runs through the entire song.

Lanterns.

Childhood streets.

Faded flag colors.

Small flames held carefully in dark spaces.

This is not the language of grand revolutions. It is the language of survival.

Light does not always roar. Sometimes it simply refuses to go out.

The Artwork

The cover artwork for Tehran Lights shows the Azadi Tower standing in the dark - wounded, crying - surrounded by five children holding lanterns. The light does not come from the tower itself, but from the next generation.

Behind it, the shape of Tehran appears in the colors of the Iranian flag.

This is not nostalgia.

It is continuity.

Why This Song Exists

Tehran Lights is not a protest chant.

It is not a slogan.

It is not an answer.

It is a hand held in the dark.

For those who stayed.

For those who left.

For those who are tired.

For those who are still standing.

Tehran, az tariki natars.

Ma ba to-im.