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This city’s collective malaise
Has ended my week in a daze
The progress we’ve made
Can seem so decayed
But here, let me list out the ways…
Commuters are stabbed in the head
Eighteen-year old girls show up dead
It drives you to drink
But not from the sink
‘Cause tap-water here still has lead
The District is stabby in parts
But we are the home for free arts!
Though if it’s subversive
And folks get coercive
We bow to the whims of old farts