please welcome, agnes ford >> the house of the setting sun. the comrade again and the poorist way wave you. to the red flag. i put my mount to your misery new orleans. here, war lies piles so high. this floating prison of a cementary cries of range. this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it's own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it's the black and the blue of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a rain of disaster of streams of our broken eyes. now the rags are the most turn. our pores the poorest that can be worn in the souls shop. now that all is lost and there is only nothing to lose. long live the courage and the poor. they begin to waiver. [applause]. >> vennetia. i was enranged at your body enettia. chicanery that cried out of an awfulor gast. slowly i found you should side