Gator Bait (Was That Really Fucking Wise?) Intro They knew hurricane season is here, Out in the swamp, that’s something to fear. When the tents are blown away and the trailers scattered throughout, The wildlife will feast, there is no doubt. Verse 1: The Question Was that really fucking wise, To build a camp where the wild things rise? No walls, just wire and hope stretched thin, A storm on the horizon, disaster rolling in. Verse 2: The Storm Builds It started as a whisper, a distant warning cry, But the Gulf burned hot, and the wind learned to fly. A hurricane climbed from a one to a four, Barbed wire and fencing twisting, screaming for more. Verse 3: The Aftermath Metal cots and folding chairs spinning like shrapnel, Debris from broken trailers—splintered wood, shattered glass, jagged metal— Slicing through the wind, cutting canvas, cutting skin, The camp ripped open, the nightmare begins. Verse 4: Blood and Chaos The ground runs red where the storm found its mark, The air thick with blood, coppery and stark. Cries of the wounded rise over the rain, The smell of fear and sewage, the echo of pain. Chorus 1 When they opened the gate and forced you in, The only name they called you was Gator Bait. Because right from the start, ICE knew your fate— They printed it on hats and shirts, and sold them to the worst: ICE With a Bite is how you become Alligator Bratwurst. Verse 5: The Hunt Immigrants scattered, running through the mud, Lightning reveals faces streaked with blood. No shelter, no mercy, just the wild set free, Predators circling where the weak used to be. Verse 6: Nature’s Feast Snakes in the shadows, silent and sly, Waiting for the little ones, watching them cry. Gators in the water, jaws open wide, Drawn by the scent, nowhere to hide. Chorus 2 Lost in the alligator’s din, Barbed wire spinning, the wild closing in. No safe place left when the storm has its way, Names washed away where the mud writes your fate— In the belly of the swamp, you’re just gator bait. Bridge: Erasure Dragged through the water, the death roll begins, Flesh torn asunder, the wild feast wins. Where your name and your bones dissolve in the gut of a gator, Mud erases your story—forgotten sooner, not later. Outro Was that really fucking wise, To build your hope where the wild things rise? No grave, no marker, just the swamp’s embrace— In the end, you’re gator bait, Swallowed by the wild, erased without a trace. Gator bait. Gator bait.