Get your tents off my lawn, go crap in the woods.
Stay out of my house, keep your hands off my goods.
Why are you out here in the suburbs, what's up with that.
Something smells rotten, I smell a damn demonrat.
You've ruined the cities, made a blight of the streets.
Now you're squatting on my land, stealing my eats.
I'm sick of used needles and your piles of crap.
Was it Gavin Newsome dumped you in my lap.
I'm sick of the smell, sick of the damned mess.
I'm sick of this invasion sent to my home address.
My lawn's dried up and dead, my yard is destroyed.
Who's paying you to stay here, I'm not overjoyed.
I'm sick of the sirens of paramedics, never police.
Last week some drugged up pervert assaulted my niece.
There's always loud music, I can't get any sleep.
I step out of my house and I'm accosted by creeps.
I've found two dead bodies, with needles in arms.
They've robbed our neighborhood of it's suburban charm
A home for the homeless, a playground for the scum.
Send these fools back to L.A., the hell they're come from.
My home's equity has vanished, I can't sell my house.
I think I'll set it on fire and flee with kids and spouse.
The squatters can keep it, they've made paradise, Hell.
The homeless are staying, neighbors are fleeing as well.
It was good while it lasted, a great place to live.
Now it's a communist sh*thole with nothing to give.
I'm headed for Utah, where I'll make a new start.
I'm praying the demonrats don't come tear it apart. 
D.L. Crockett -- 5/23/23