As a child, you taught me how to spell
Taught me how to read and write quite well
You taught me geography and the intricacies of the city
You showed me how to be brave and not to wallow in self-pity
From the moonlit hills of Porto Bello,
You were a sight to behold
You were indeed my happy place, my Saint James, my shelter from the cold
You were once revered,
I felt safest in your embrace
So imagine my surprise when I heard you fell from grace
First, you took my father,
I forgave you for that deed
But then I'm told that in bloodletting, you're comfortably in the lead
You've taken at least three hundred, just last year alone
You must feel quite accomplished in destroying people's homes
What is the purpose of this bloodbath?
Trying to feed your insatiable greed?
Or are you building an army?
If so, how many soldiers do you need?
The streets are now blood red, people's closest friend is fear
Family members are crippled by pain and blinded by rivers of tears
Why have you changed so drastically?
How did you become so vile?
You used to be my happy place,
A place that induced smiles
Why do you insist on leaving effigies in your path?
Why must you continue to vex God?
Do you not dread his wrath?
Circumstances have pushed us apart,
I yearn to be close again but
How can we be close if you keep making statues of my friends?
You are not even a little rueful
No remorse for your hateful deeds
Oh I wish I had a choice than to watch as my beloved city bleeds
And desist from calling yourself a saint. You have no concept of what it means
- Makada McBean