Fancy ass housesSprout up like weedsAmong the desiccated shellsOf homes past&The street corner is stillA battlegroundFull of ill-forgottendead
DEVELOPMENTDEVELOPMENTDEVELOPMENTHe criesCome oneCum allTo Free MarketCircusWhere all your dreams will comeTrueWhere the only person that mattersIs youWhere all your cares can be laidTo rest(If you are white, rich and exploit the already exploited)NevermindThe broken communitiesThe displaced peopleThe alienation you feel in your soul
The Crier CriedAre you tired of yourPerfectly manicured lawnsYour neighborhood associationsYour serene and “safe” home?Why notSpice it up!By moving to thisLow-Income Neighborhood!(The Natives call it the “Hood”)For the low low priceOf fucked up racial dynamicsYou too can be that edgy white dudeOr that free spirited hipster girlYou can be the face of post-racial Amerikkka!And for a limited time we will throw in a Black Friend™To prove you aren’tA racist!(And if the Natives bother you just call the cops!)
Do youEnjoy flaunting your wealthIn front of the folksYou stole it from?Do youHave a burning needTo assuage your guiltBy saving the black and brown children?Than step right upI dare you
Come closerTake a hardLookAt what you haveWroughtUpon yourself
NothingBut a putrid emaciated corpseCroaking feebly“I hunger.”&Those fancy ass houseswith windows turnedInwardArenothingbutTombs