Beirut Lebanon
To a small Arkansas town
K. J. Jamell
Dug his roots into the ground
That town leans like a sunken ship
In forgotten waters
Where a Lebanese man
Married the youngest of seven daughters
Got drunk with Pretty Boy Floyd
Loaded cannons in the Korean War
Sharpened knives and peddled Levi's
Then opened a general store
Where Petit Jean lies on top of the mountain
And the paper mill makes the whole town smell rotten
Sammie races trains driving the boys insane
New Store Number Two gone but not forgotten
He was the king
She was the queen
Fig trees surrounded the castle
Now they're all dead and
The crown from his head
Sits on the head of a jackal
Masters of mankind mark off the scene
In the shape of the American Dream
Now that dream swings
In the warm southern breeze
In the shade
Of the tall forgotten trees
Was it magic he mumbled
No one understood what he said
But with two fingers he lifted
The table above his head