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letra de andre - soft plastics

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this town’s a fascist collective
and that’s why i live alone
this marks the end of our kisses
and look what the wind has blown
i don my apparel and step out
into the drenched unknown
my boat is adrift in the lowlands
i’m stuck on this floating groan

i’m ground ashore, broken and bereft
of the will to appeal
the sense of injustice
that coats the dying gladiolus leaves

andre’s gone
he was my only son
he stepped into the mist and cried
“dad, there are wolves on our lawn”

white mist, white p-ss
white laughter, a bell as it clips
its shrill lamentation into the echoing grift
a resurrected and demonic gift

lonely reactor’s sunken top floor:
is this jesus’s home?

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