Chaarzarul Rockett (Baton Rouge, Louisiana)
It was way down in the swampland,
Some called it a city.
The men were all hot, the women all cold,
and the wasn't no room for pity.
Well, you could have fun if you pulled it out your wallet,
but it didn't last long.
Before you knew it, you were swinging a hammer,
Trying to come up with something wrong.
When the rains came down there wasn't much to say,
And there wasn't much said.
But if the work stopped and the money got short
Somebody would end up dead.
In the parking lots I'd see them kissing goodbye
Some angry woman and a heartless guy.
Well, I knew where they were headed, and it wouldn't be long
'til a bullet was fired like an pissed off song.
And all the while the preachers caused a stir
Give your money and you're forgiven.
But what's the point in that, just being broke
And just dreaming about livin'.
Comments about this poem (Swamp City by Chaarzarul Rockett )
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