Rage Of Plastics

It was the rage of plastics; I was 24

I was doing my time on the dancefloor

It was all polyester and leopard print

And Fabergé coming off the ladies

I know it's a blight to the brightest how our designs unseam

Like the backside of some skirt in some old man's dream

I got caught putting off all my traveling plans

For this refinery job and his maybes

With hair in ribbons, stockings in runs

Fashion bricks out of the breaks as they come

Land goes for less downwind of the plant

There's no telling how long you'll be paying

There are scores of us born in the silent spring

Whose wombs won't take, won't bear anything

He had want for a daughter, and I had want for a son

Now I rock my moon faced man like one

Was it the river on fire that made us what we became?

Was it the cup that we drank from, or what it contained?

Does it move to the beat of the oil drums

Or flow out of our eyes as we're wailing?

And I see it rise in ribbons to the clouds overhung

Just to spit back down on everyone

Land goes for less downwind of the plant

There's no telling how long you'll be paying