Gravel Children

Watching the wooden railroad rot

Away across a nation blooms

Gravel children drowned in soot

Inside little, tiny, concrete rooms.

A flower blooms through railroad rot

And gravel children piss in pots

Watching from a concrete room

Drowned in soot, spinning asbestos looms.

Pulling itchy, poisoned wool

Whilst straining sprained spinal cords

Expressionless suffering hidden in gravel kids

Without the means - without the words.

Through the smell of wooden rot

And soot-drowned, flower-concrete cot,

An asbestos nation looms

O'er gravel children set to bloom.