My magic does not find a place to survive

In the open forum of your toxic overload world

Breathing is an easy condition reduced by poison

I don’t make it but I do consume the drip feed

Without questioning the source of the pollutant

Burn me alive on a stake from your picket fence

Anything but the tidy order you prescribe me to

Fishing for the past in a pacific ocean nuclear free

But contaminated by the greatest of war pressure

Social media foresting a desire to talk to communicate

O world this talk is cheaper then Pak n Save wine

The cost is a still born soul trying but not succeeding

It is found in the river that used to feed us

In the ocean that we care less about in our fear

Of being killed by an earthquake or a wave

And it’s the death of the inevitable we try to escape

With the pleasures of intoxication and entertainment.