Ia ora te natura
E mea arofa teie ao nei
Its in the coastlines now, in the harbors, bays and myriad brackish branches of the bayou. Visions of fingerling rainbows sparkling their false gold promise in the sun, creep into my view. Beautiful death, such a mask for the evil. Bright orange globs and tarred waters tint and leach into these relentless prismatic wisps, breaking free and meandering, searching, seeking to spread its chokehold throughout the very alveoli that breathes life into the Gulf.
Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all
Watched the men who rode you switch from sails to steam
And in your belly you hold the treasures few have ever seen
Most of ’em dream, most of ’em dream