Within our species’ origin is a flat-screen empathy
To ensure our hearts are shielded from the horrors that we see
We survey the gruesome images projected in our minds
And thank the powers-that-be that tragedies don’t happen to our kind
Now some civilians of the world reach out in selflessness
And some will blame the victims and revert to prejudice
If I have lain in ignorance on a bed of apathy
Then I have slain my principles of basic humanity
Come hell or high water, to me they are the same
Come hell or high water, and the land has been reclaimed
While my Louisiana home is devoured by the rain
I don’t know why I seem to be chosen to remain
Number nine is the ward, and is the deepest pit of hell
In the city that care forgot, abandon hope, all ye who dwell
Our turf becomes an underworld, and Hades our domain
And roving packs of miscreants by our lakes of Pontchartrain
I don’t feel like a survivor, I’m just too tired to fight
I don’t feel like a refugee, more like a parasite
I thought survival was a triumph, defiantly raised fist
But I just feel lost and scared, and all I do is just exist
Come hell or high water, to me they are the same
Come hell or high water, and the land has been reclaimed
While my Louisiana home is devoured by the rain
I don’t know why I seem to be chosen to remain
It was one August morning
I bid New Orleans adieu ...
Last night I kissed my enemy, and learned of my true friend
The loss of this dark paradise too deep to comprehend
Comrades and relations now scattered by the squall
Dispatched and dispersed, like the forbears of us all
Now I should count my blessings, or just try to lift the curse
But I feel more guilt than gratitude, for others had it worse
As the phoenix rises from debris; waterlogged, not burned
Just like my friend, I’ve been to hell, and indeed I have returned
Come hell or high water, to me they are the same
Come hell or high water, and the land has been reclaimed
While my Louisiana home is devoured by the rain
I don’t know why I seem to be chosen to remain