Murdering Marathon
A small town as old as the county, founded in 1887
A place you could breathe, seemed a lot like heaven
with ranches, a railroad and shipments of ore
the little man is who this town was built for
You were only meant to visit, yet decided to buy a home
We have very few amenities, so all you do is moan
Your trophy home sits empty most days
You call yourself a local, then condemn our ways
A landlocked place, with ranches all around
You have what you want, though, so “let it drown!”
A playground for those with more dollars than sense
You use Marathon like a toy with no recompense
A sweet little school, it was once booming
but families can’t move here and trouble is looming
destruction is all you’ve brought with your ways
We’d hire more teachers, but where would they stay?
Mark Mullins waltzes in with pockets so deep
then snatches up properties at prices quite steep
Seven empty houses just a block from our school
It is no wonder we think him a fool
Not enough students, no more band or football team
You’re actively slaughtering our American Dream
Just breeze on into town, pretend that it’s a fit
you’ll never actually stay here, you just don’t have the grit
One day, there will be nothing left to see here,
since greed won’t give it a rest
just a lone epitaph that reads
“ruining this place is what man does best”
EH Tindall
Marathon
