It was the rage of plastics, I was twenty-four
I was doing my time on the dance floor
It was all polyester and leopard print
And Fabergé coming off the ladies
You know it's a blight to the brightest how our designs unseam
Like the back side 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 drum
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

I have tried to be patient as I've been made nurse
Get some help from the perks of my devotion's curse
And I know, yeah, I know the man's pain is much worse
For the moon and his grace are now waning
You say the first one now will later be last
My faith in scripture has come to pass
Now I won't play dumb, I'm done trying to sweeten this load
And you give me a ribbon, you tell me to run
To land my legs to your narcissist fund
But land still goes for less downwind of the plant
Making this living just brings about dying

I got a rage of plastics, the refinery floor
I got a rage of plastics, got nothing more
Now I won't play dumb and I'm done lying
Making this living just brings about dying
But land still goes for less downwind of the plant
Making this living just brings about dying
Making this living just brings about dying
Making this living just brings about dying