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 PLEASβ¦"
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
For Linus, Smitty, Craig and the others of the Lower 9th Ward