The plant below, its tips glow gold.
Smoke stacks shine like giant candles.
People walk into its doors
to find grace in this cathedral.
I was raised to love its products
though its stench fills me with disease.
My father bled from his organs
so we could live the way he pleased.
He left the city for the forest
to raise his children with the trees.
We tended to his summer garden
as he lost muscle below his knees
This water isn't made for drinking.
It tastes as bad as rotten meat.
My mother boiled it before bedtime
to let us soak in something clean.
The plant below, it's tips glow gold.
Smoke stacks sway like giant redwoods.
The sunset gleams a neon hue,
while carbon clouds the nerves of children.
I gave my spoiled blood to the state,
to kill an honest someone's dream.
There's C8 in the rainwater,
and there are dead fish in the stream.
Mrs. raised three sons my age,
starved for local royalty.
Their father chased miss something else,
while mrs. taught us all to read.
When her three sons found out the truth,
they traded fame for pharmacy.
And sold her wedding dress for fentanyl
at night when she was sound asleep.
The plant below, its tips glow gold.
Smoke stacks seep like giant geysers.
Before this town had industry,
it was a land for simple farmers.
The river brought new kinds of buildings.
Plastic plants of steel and copper.
And then the steel was left to rust,
and farms lost their taste for labor.
The plant below, its tips glow gold.
Smoke stacks shine like giant candles.
People walk into its doors
to find grace in this cathedral.
I was raised to love its products
though its stench fills me with disease.
My father bled from his organs
so we could live the way he pleased.