by Jerry Ratch

I'm sorry. We couldn't fix the country

and left her a bigger mess than we found her

Oil leaking from her shores

earthquake batter all over her skin

We couldn't fix her, and we're sorry


You'll find her wreck in tatters

at the bus stop on the corner

with a useless cigarette butt dangling from her mouth

teeth missing, hair entangled


I know she's not pretty anymore

It's not an absolute fact that she ever really was

a virgin, if you want the truth

Certain things are born impure

Of that and only that we are sure


So we're sending her to you, the future

with a one-way ticket

Maybe you can find a cure

for our social failure

Yes. We couldn't fix the country

and we are sorry. So sorry