My country?

My country?
I claim no citizenship in the here and now
For I shall not pitch my tent on another's soil
With a land comes its gods,
And with it's god comes a yoke
I shall not plow furrows with seeds of hatred,
Nor shall I kill for virgins eager to reward me,
For the innocent blood on my hands
There is a land where the olive tree is boisterous
A patch of soil where the fig tree calls my name
There are no islands to themselves in my country
Yet, there is a song in my land