West Coast
Spencer Skeete
I live in the west coast
And here it always rains
People here are pale as ghosts
And the food is very plain
And you might think it's odd,
but it happens all the time
Your father concedes that your mother's
alright
The Polish disease it really soothes my soul
Like folks cajun coppers cannot cajole
Like Augeas wouldn't give up 30 of his cattle
I won't sacrifice my time to listen to you prattle about those governmental pheromones
They promised us land and they took our souls
It's not as pretty as you thought in the west coast