Hope, at times for them
Is a once-great passenger ship
Breeched and sinking fast
This vessel is one that sees the Mississippi,
Floats on it for a brief period
But has no idea that it's being dominated
By the mighty, muddy beast
In these instances responsibility
Becomes government reports that are long,
Arduous and too thick to be stapled
"Many people will die." they say,
"200,000 people will be displaced."
This incites the mantra,
Home is where the water is not
The ship that was a home is made of steel
Neither black nor white
Its grey, so grey that it is without true color
It finds itself trapped in the womb of the dense, delta mud
The people;
The brave, the bold, the idiots, waiting for their ship to come
Sit on top of their roofs,
Now islands where they can soak up Indian Summer Sun
For the abandoned, perseverance is a suntan
"THE WATER IS RISING PLEAS…"
Words spray-painted white on black shingles
The rescuers, government, American people
Are suddenly illiterate
Federal law states:
Energy (money) cannot be created
Nor destroyed
But the ship is gone,
The people are in watery graves
The City is a large crescent with greedy bites taken out of it
6 years later the laws of the universe are disbanded
Ferrel dogs rule the day
And love is never having to say you care