deepundergroundpoetry.com
Camp Fire
Sonoma’s hot Diablo Wind
Sure ain’t no gentle breeze!
It stripped our bones of charbroiled skin
And vaporized the trees
Our village was reduced to dust
The carnage is complete
Anything that won’t combust
Just melted in the street
Was it worth the pretty view?
Or profits from our wine?
Sonoma earned my last adieu,
I’m sick of burning pine!
Eighty souls were lost that day
While criminals run free—
Pacific Gas refused to pay
By faking bankruptcy!
Sure ain’t no gentle breeze!
It stripped our bones of charbroiled skin
And vaporized the trees
Our village was reduced to dust
The carnage is complete
Anything that won’t combust
Just melted in the street
Was it worth the pretty view?
Or profits from our wine?
Sonoma earned my last adieu,
I’m sick of burning pine!
Eighty souls were lost that day
While criminals run free—
Pacific Gas refused to pay
By faking bankruptcy!
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