Helen Hill Will Have Her Revenge on New Orleans Thou

It's coming for us through the trees
This is a message from the River
This is a sermon from Nature
To see us weep and moan, to see us float or drown
This is a blighted land, infected with the virus of human greed
Corruption chokes every breath as we exalt the culture of excess
Inhaled to the depths of our oaken roots
Exhaled as billowing refinery pollution
Indifference subsists in our bones
This is our unspoken history, a bestial temperament obscured by social constraints
And that brief moment when Nature's wrath released us
From Modernity's restraints has offered us a glimpse of what boils beneath our skin
But do not confuse causality and cataclysm
This is systemic violence, and we are all guilty
Some day a real rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets
She'll come back as fire and burn all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground