They told us we should leave our homes
And everything inside, everything we owned.
But we didn't have nowhere to go,
And no way to get there anyhow.
We don't have no credit cards,
No bank accounts, no trucks, no cars.
Down here we live from check to check
And it wasn't pay day yet.
And there weren't no van, there weren't no train,
No caravan on the interstate.
There weren't no plan, there weren't no bus,
The government, they just forgot about us.

He don't, he don't, he don't know.
He don't know.
Everybody tells me so.
He don't, he don't, he don't know.

When the storm blew past, they all breathed their sighs.
They didn't tell us when the Lake done rise
And topped the levee and undermined the wall.
They didn't come to get us, didn't bother at all.
And the water rushed down like a ton of bricks
And crushed our homes like they were made of sticks.
And it swirled down here twenty feet below
The level of the sea.
We rushed to the tops of our homes that night,
To our attacks and roofs, paralyzed by fright.
The power was gone and the dark complete,
And we all prepared to die.
We prayed to Jesus to save our souls,
To watch for our loved ones and keep them whole.
And when the morning came, we lived.

He don't, he don't, he don't know.
He don't know.
Everybody tells me so.
He don't, he don't, he don't know.

Daylight brought the horror of what had come to pass.
Our lives as we knew them were just so much trash.
When a person dies, her body floats.
When a person dies, his body bloats.
We sang the tune; we hit all the notes.
But this rising tide don't lift all boats.

The President flew down to survey our fate,
A dollar short, a couple days late.
He talked of the Senator who lost his home,
But he didn't come near the Superdome.
I don't guess that he dared to venture
Anywhere near the Convention Center.
He expressed for the cameras his sympathy, his pity,
But he never set foot in the Crescent City.
He didn't take a step toward
Me and all of us in the Ninth Ward.

He don't, he don't, he don't know.
He don't know.
Ain't nobody have to tell me so.
He don't, he don't, he don't know.

The President flew home in his aeroplane
To the comforts of home and the political game.
We've lost our past, our future, our hopes.
This rising tide don't lift all boats.

He don't, he don't, he don't know.
He don't know.
Nobody has to tell me so.
He don't, he don't, he don't know.

Everybody wants someone they can trust.
Everybody wants someone who knows what's just.
Everybody wants someone who sees what's true,
And when he sees what's true, he knows what to do.
Everybody wants someone who's a man of action,
Who won't hide behind spin or political faction,
Who won't hide behind force, who won't hide behind might,
Who'll do all in his power to do what is right.

Words and music by Jim Choukas-Bradley.
Jim Choukas-Bradley: vocals, piano;
Jesse Daumit: vocals, rhythm and lead guitar;
Jesse Choukas-Bradley: vocals, rhythm and lead guitar;
Amanda Olsavsky: vocals;
Jeff Reed: bass;
Mike Kuhl: drums.

Recorded at Levon Helm Studios, Woodstock, NY.
Engineered and mixed by Justin Guip.

The title song of the album is the story of Hurricane Katrina and the abandonment of the people of New Orleans in its aftermath. I wrote the words in stream of consciousness fashion when the details of what happened, and didn't happen, what was not done, were fresh and stark.

I did not know if those words would ever be lyrics that I could rein in to a coherent song, but I wanted to get the words down while they could capture the rawness in a way that now, with the passage of time, they never could. The biting and wailing guitar solos from Jesse Daumit and Jesse Choukas-Bradley give this song extra power.