The East Coast trippers
Got bad livers..
They live like Smyther’s
Right next to toxic rivers..
Tick Dips ticking,
The grasses children licking..
Little boys poking
At the strange things growing.
A tumor here …
A cancer there..
And down that road
they ain’t got no hair.
Lost it all
In one go.
Governments cover up
So no one knows..
East Coast Trippers
Life saving Nippers
Swimming in the mouths
of all those toxic rivers
Poisoning the people
its all quite legal
Sport that trusty decal
So, East Coast Trippers
Do some healthy flippers
Check out the histories
Of the Carcinogenic rivers.
its not a poem
its a simple ditty
Do yourself a favor
Leave those east coast cities
The Forest takes care of its own
The forest corp is not with the people,
So Forestry should go home!
The forest is the home of trees
And in these valley’s
There’s thousands and thousands of these
The Forestry corp is an entity heading Mort
Fraught – down to the ground they are brought..
The Good spirits are drawn out across the sky
While those heavy corporate spirits
fall from high
They can’t get near it
Corporatized, they’re full of lies
Now they’re making new ones
Dropping chemical from the skies!
Death is the sleep of life
death is the great leveler .
The End, A place where there is no protection
and no Kevlar
No protection from the self made infection
Called inept legislation.
Got this place looking for some mild syncopation
To this latest annihilation.
They care not for little animals
Little insy insects they don’t see
Bacteria that’s vitally important to you and me
Are violently deprived of being alive
Forestry corp brings this misery
I fear they will be caught
Hung up in a tree with this karma they bought
I call up the wind to blow and rain
and cause this to be a relative dollar drain
While the the ceremonial songs are playing
Forestry flies in an end zone
Encroaching and crushing riparian homes
Of little people, they’re small
But they’re not feeble
They hold up the bones of all their old people
And, if you’re in the forest at night
You’ll hear their singing, right
Its a spirit thing
And yes it stings, It grips this thing
And makes it play fair
By keeping them down, and outta the air.