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Our city is falling to bits. Potholes scattered. Building mattered, but now reside to dust. Look down Bailey Avenue and what do you see? N-O-T-H-I-N-G First comes life, Then comes leave,
No jobs , No will What can be done More school less money it’s all gone This great country is dieing ,oh and all for what They say be patient, they say its better
Are you souless? Do you care? I have a soul,  at least I think. A remenaberable Burn  once told me that, "The eyes are the  windows to the soul." I'll always remenber  That 
A place where people love to fsrm,  and guys love to work their southern charm. country hicks like to go outdoors,  And do their gardening chores. Boys and girls go fishin' with rods and reels,
The single white dividing line beats past, Not measuring blurred distance or rhythmic time, But the spinning of wheels over asphalt.   Mississippi summers creep in through Latched windows and locked doors,
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