YOU

STUPID

HIPPIE

I

WISH

YOU

WERE

DEAD

  Little green men coming out of paint cans,/Phosphate mines and Slaked Lime, 1966, he was sixteen,/it's Central Florida in the era of the dragline,/play it over the pit and dig up more of that green shit,/

  and trade it with the Russians, who are traditionally hated,/you can imagine that after a few years/that you'd run out of things to say,/and I'll be here every day./Phospho~Gypsum, Radon-222,/the daughters watch over you,/

  on a transformer four stories high it walks like a cripple/and turns on its base,/diggin' up that Dicalcium Phosphate./Travel the blacktop/and you won't have far to go to find an alien civilization,/

  a creature from a creation that's from outer space./Sixty foot high for miles around;/one million tons of Phospho~Gypsum tailings rise to the sky./Nearly half the world's fertilizer once lay beneath the overburden;/

  it got taken off this sandbar,/and now there's something that's left behind./Hey, this place is a mess!/what are you takin' about?/I'll clean it up later./No, that's not the way it is at all, I'm not a miner I don't care,/ 

  man, that's pant of the system, I'm punk,/(fight the power)/but who's gonna indict the Wall Street Journal?/Just me and Bob Ray,/it's just part of the system here on the surface of the planet/and the day has come when there's only  

  work left/There's unlimited sunshine in a bottle of Tropicana,/with his friends and his 'Spooky Tooth' 8-track flipped upside down,/drivin' in his Mercury Monterey down to Lithia Springs,/saying that if we could take the tailings,

  and build a building for the New York Stork Exchange,/then we could tell everyone about/how we live in a state that digs Radon by the ton/and you'll be loved by everyone,/and the government will give you a Superfund,/

  and “we're Radon”,/ and that's “Science Fiction.”

                               - Radon...”Science Fiction” from the album ’28’