I'M THE PAIN THEY CALL THE CITY OF NEW ORLEANS

(With apologies to Arlo Guthrie)

Stranded in the city of New Orleans
Many thousands watch the levees fail
Daring flooded streets to get to safety
Hopes and cries for help do not avail

And on their desperate odyssey the stream of dire humanity
Find shelter fraught with perils so surreal
Their hunger biting, children cry, the poor and old and weak they die
And no one comes to answer their appeal

Good mornin' America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

Days go by, with all the nation watching
Tens of thousands wretchedly await
But no rescue comes and all the world starts wond’ring
If to die in squalor was their fate

And the president flies overhead and worries ‘bout Trent Lott instead
What does his strange reaction there betray?
And mothers clutch their fevered babes while politicians exchange praise
And promise aid in practiced, smooth clichés.

Good mornin' America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

Night time in the city of New Orleans
Darkness reigns, dismay is in the air
Thirst and hunger raging, gunshots echo,
Punctuating infinite despair.

And all the domes and people seem to play into macabre dreams
But FEMA says it still ain’t heard the news
The pres makes no apologies, a million more are refugees
A city lost while Dubya took a snooze.

Good night America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.