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Southern hospitality leaks a lie, like a teenage mother
     leaks her child
Blaming a man
because you refuse to blame God
She has a name and her name is perverse
Spitting on the ground as you say it, cursed

say it,
Katrina, oh Katrina!
your love for us is undying
We blame Big Brother
it is you we're denying
Giving us this, to wash our thighs, our sins
Yet older brother just breaks our limbs and flushes
     our kids, hearing our cries
Trading them with the Ferryman

Where is the silver in their eyes?

He let this occure with absolute control
Letting your grandkids fend for themselves, unable
     to pay the toll
Respecting you undisturbed, leaves our genes torn with
     dirty knees
All we ask is that these words bring him a whipping,

pretty please?



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On Friday May 5th, 2006, Urban Shipwreck (968) writes:
Hmm. This was razor sharp though I think I probably missed the specific direction the general assumptions I gathered made me want to hop on the lynch mob train. Intense. ~Ship!


On Friday May 5th, 2006, Guillotine (223) writes:
I'm not sure completely where this is pointed... consumerism, modernism... either way a very pwerful and abstract write.



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