Clotilde - City Of Ships

Across the state line

Pace of life slows to a crawl

Fair-haired sons

Never break a sweat at all

On a wide porch

In rocking chairs

Feeling the warm breeze

Out of sight out of mind

So no one sees

The white man sailed in

Set up shop

Sold em with chains

Round their necks

Down by the docks

From ancient oaks

Down old shell roads

The moss hangs so low

Weeping for sins no one speaks

But everybody knows

Were it not for the twilight song

Of the mockingbird

Singing out that the caged ones might be heard

The carnival masks

Of psychological hypochondriacs

Salt in the wounds

From whips across their backs