Cindy Hyde Smith is a filthy cancer deserving senator from the depraved state of Mississippi. This brutal cunt is work to suppress Black and working class votes by making it illegal for Americans to vote on Sunday. She believes or pretends to believe that the evil Bible is the law of the land rather than United States Constitution.
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Dear Cunt,
You Republicans really are earning the hate.
BTW dum dum the Sabbath is Saturday and the Jews are not whining about voting on Saturday. BTW dum dum Jesus never existed but I think you already know that.
In God We Trust is a lie and a violation of separation of church and state and the constitution. If you want to live in a theocracy insufferable pig, live in some Muslim country.
If there were a moral god you would not have ever been born. The god you pretend to believe exists is a monster just like you and the rest of you filthy hypocrites.
Keep in mind you filthy pig, the Blacks are not cowed any longer and if they come for you with a noose like Trump's mob came for Mike Pence when they stormed the Capitol, you will have earned it you traitorous liar.
Jackson
190 East Capitol St.
Suite 550
Jackson, MS 39201
Phone (601) 965-4459
Fax (601) 965-4919
Gulfport
2012 15th Street
Suite 451
Gulfport, MS 39501
Phone (228) 867-9710
Fax (228) 867-9789
Oxford
911 Jackson Ave.
Rm. 249
Oxford, MS 38655
Phone (662) 236-1018
Fax (862) 236-7618
[Verse 1]
Here's to the state of Mississippi
For underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines
If you drag her muddy river, nameless bodies you will find
Whoa, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes
The calendar is lyin' when it reads the present time
[Chorus]
Whoa, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
And here's to the people of Mississippi
Who say the folks up north, they just don't understand
And they tremble in their shadows at the thunder of the Klan
The sweating of their souls can't wash the blood from off their hands
They smile and shrug their shoulders at the murder of a man
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
[Verse 3]
And here's to the schools of Mississippi
Where they're teaching all the children that they don't have to care
All the rudiments of hatred are present everywhere
And every single classroom is a factory of despair
There's nobody learning such a foreign word as "fair"
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
[Verse 4]
And here's to the cops of Mississippi
They're chewing their tobacco as they lock the prison door
Their bellies bounce inside them when they knock you to the floor
No they don't like taking prisoners in their private little war
Behind their broken badges they are murderers and more
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
[Verse 5]
And, here's to the judges of Mississippi
Who wear the robe of honor as they crawl into the court
They're guarding all the bastions of their phony legal fort
Oh, justice is a stranger when the prisoners report
When the black man stands accused, the trial is always short
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
[Verse 6]
And here's to the government of Mississippi
In the swamp of their bureaucracy they're always bogging down
And criminals are posing as the mayors of the towns
And they hope that no one sees the sights and no one hears the sounds
And the speeches of the governor are the ravings of a clown
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
[Verse 7]
And here's to the laws of Mississippi
Congressmen will gather in a circus of delay
While the Constitution is drowning in an ocean of decay
"Unwed mothers should be sterilized", I've even heard them say
Yes, corruption can be classic in the Mississippi way
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
[Verse 8]
And here's to the churches of Mississippi
Where the cross, once made of silver, now, is caked with rust
And the Sunday morning sermons pander to their lust
The fallen face of Jesus is choking in the dust
Heaven only knows in which God they can trust
[Chorus]
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of
