We wear our short shorts in January, our scarves we wear in july,
the weather here gets switched around, but not one snowflake on the ground
not one snowflake on the ground
im walking in new orleans with the sunshine on my hair
flip flops on my feet, traces of chill gone from the air
but something different besides our dress
and evergreen trees and sidewalks snow-less
sets us apart from any other country, state, or town
you can see it in the glimmer of the Rex king's crown
men in dresses, red black or gold
masses on the parade ground, young middle or old
we look, we sound, we feel separate
we are our own, a massive color palette
but every once in a big blue moon
the changes come and we all swoon
above ground graves all covered in snow
beautiful, austere, and strange, we know
never forget and never regret the fact we are all raised to know
it's deep within our hearts, our souls, our minds, our genes
dreams do come true in new orleans
Megann, age 17
