Adakarası (Turkish: adakarası, "island's black"), is a Turkey origin of red grape variety. Its famous production place is Avşa Island but the grape variety of Adakara produces in all Marmara Region (especially Marmara coast and East Thrace). The wine has an alcohol ratio approximately 12%, and an acidity range of 6 to 7 grams/liter and this wine are also known as Avşa Wine. The Island of Avşa produce 1500 tonnes wine per a year.
I wake up in the morning and I drink from the fountain.
I wake up in the morning with the same unanswered questions.
I don't know what's going to cure my unsettled stomach.
Street kids collect spare change in a conch shell on the side walk;
their teeth are yellow, their hair is tangled.
Their minds are vapid and they laugh wild in their depravity.
I'll make my way back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
I want to smash them all.
Pony tails swinging back and forth behind beach blonde college girls out for a jog.
Saint Augustine, shine your light down on me!
Pop hits from the 90's echo out of tourist filled bars.
I am met with arms crossed under dirty looks, I am treated like a common thief.
I'll make my way back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
I want to smash them all.
Eaves-dropping in on conversation, I wander aimless leering at strangers.
Strung out on the amphetamines that you gave to me.
Eye-balled with suspicion by a pencil skirt in high heels,
you realize that you're talking to yourself.
Cannon fire explodes out over the bay.
I'll make my way back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
Looking for context and perspective, looking for some kind of distraction.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
Well I packed all of my things into this blanket
To call this year to earn coyotes fill
Kiss my wife and kids goodbye choke back the quiver in my breath
And took my first steps into this corridor of death
If I’m lucky I will make it to a drain
With 500 of my brothers, I would share the strain
Of standing in this boxcar praying for rain
It’s the only the way we will quench our thirst
In these gardens of white crosses
Growing in the California sand
In these gardens of white crosses
We are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
If we make it past the border, we will scatter
Vanish just like smoke in autumn wind
I will run until my color will not matter
Hopin’ I can find some work or possibly a friend
There are others who have made it here
They will show me how to find a job and a place to lay my head
And I cannot be concerned with dreams of my children
For there are 5 others in line for my bed
In these gardens of white crosses
Growing in the California sand
In these gardens of white crosses
We are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
I will gladly pick your peaches or clean your hotel rooms
I will do the jobs American won’t do
With cell phones to their heads and $700 dollar shoes
I will risk my life ‘cause it’s all I have to lose
Let the devil in the mountains promise me a ride
Found an 18 wheeler and put all of us inside
And just outside of victory, 19 of us died
None of our bodies hit the floor
And so my wife she still wonders when I’m coming home
The riches that I promised her for leaving her alone
I said I would send her all that I could save
But I ended up in California in an unknown grave
In these gardens of white crosses growing in the California sand