O, former land of such promise, 

O, evil twisted coven of malice, 

The Island safe looks often down 

On all the sordid poor around 

 

O, place of torment and strife, 

O, place of such anxiety rife, 

The Island ville looks out upon 

Its neighbors with look of wrong 

 

O, town of such judgmental eyes, 

O, foundation of unfounded lies, 

A land so filled with lustful hate 

Shall ever fall beneath its weight. 

 

O, renowned educational luster, 

O, diversity’s little rural bluster, 

Look out, ye mighty, and compare 

Your privileged lot, credit to tears. 

 

O, nest of ever-ravenous vultures, 

O, centric monomalgamated culture, 

So pure and rich and ever white, 

You never know the other’s plight. 

 

The Island floats amongst the waves 

Unknowingly working on their graves.