It's like the left hand of the body - the offhand.
At least that's the way I see it.

Where everything is kind of inverted
From the original.

The opposite, of what was
Perhaps the bedrock of what's to come.

But it's lame, bloodless,
Like an eagle's dead wing
Out of step with the body,

Unable to fly straight,
Throwing the rest of
The frame offline,

Deviating always,
Steering a path,
Its own path, to segregation,

Bluest of the blue,
Of regions, having
Washington scratching its head.

Its Destiny has been clearly
Manifest. The question now:
Where do we go from here?

I have heard calls for secession,
An ugly word,
We don't need to hear again,

No matter the context, especially
For vanity and ego,
In place of unity and truth.

A fool's paradise,
Is no new concept
In our "rational" world.

Tragedy reigns, however,
When the fool's motives
Suck in the weak, the stupid and the hopeless.

There are two cities, prime criminals,
One in the North and One in the South,
In that State of States.

Each weakens through the flesh,
Through the loins, and draw
Men and women from throughout the body,

Young and old, educated
Confused, rich and poor,
None are immune to weakness.

In the North, there is perversion
And vanity.
In the South, more distortion.

Take your pick,
There is much to offer,
To destroy the soul.

Go West young man,
Young woman, like Kerouac,
And all those others,

Some who never left,
Some who died,
Whither their souls, who knows?

Once a bright light, I must admit,
Now a gutter of sorts
An active drain swallowing the lost.

Cursing the strong right hand
The defiant lame one raises itself,
Strangely resembling an old Teutonic salute.

That golden coast, with that key "blue" Leviathan
Is not what she used to be.
Watch closely, what she might become.