Southside

If you told me to take you to where dreams die,

You would've already found me in the Southside.

Pointing out broken homes once holding broken people

Along crunching gravel past disheveled steeples

While sitting in a parking lot of thought, lost, 

After leaving random drug dens for a Blevins jaunt. 

Could you find a rainbow at the end of a resting spot?

My friends are a pot of gold, they were buried by their coin toss.

The lights and the sirens beaming: 

Could you find hope on Dixie in a traffic stop?

The rage, noise, and the screaming

Could you concentrate on your own damn thoughts,

With the tires, the smoke, and the fleeing,

A teeming live stream amidst all of this chaos?