Mr. Gooding tells me about the past,
Back before the levees gave way,
and the water swallowed his city,
Mr. Gooding says she was a proud place,
One full of passion and sound,
He says New Orleans had a life of its own,
Everyone there just loved to hear it sing,
I tell him that Baltimore sings too,
Sometimes out of tune,
But still she sings,
And we came here to listen

I do not think much of the desert,
How mountains shift and shake every night,
The way the dunes roll mighty,
How they whisper away with the winds,
I do not think much of the desert,
I've read stories of a forgotten oasis,
Nestled somewhere in the shifting sands,
Like an ocean, only smaller,
I am shrinking too,
Here there is a desert,
One too big for my arms to hold,
Because here I grow smaller every night,
And my bones shift and shake with every breath

The only thing I'm afraid of
is forgetting about this