science is death if time is death (part 3)

just one more day sitting here
i close my eyes
hello hello
where are you going?
in your worn down cars buses nikes
your reds and blues (now white too)
hello hello
i am speaking to you
who are the dry packed dirt
from which my mind bloomed and blossomed
and i am so tiny mounted on a hill
a dead hill an abandoned hill
forgotten condemned hill
my hair do you see it?
greased and stringy
falling against my white breast
it's you i'm calling
do you here me?
can you bring me home?
i'm not dead yet
the gypsies stole me away
painted me this skin
this inside out skin
i see you before me
in a jungle
a concrete jungle
where i pound the ground
my feet blistering
pounding out the sound of rebellion
pounding out blood into the dry packed dirt
muddying my hand
pale pale hand
pounding like the tepid pulsing rising from my vulva
out into a pale world
with white sky
white rain
bloody muddy dirty hands
suffocating in this tightening skin
and i'm still so tiny
calling out to you
the flare of gunfire
the shape of hand symbols
the soulful wealfare line bellow
government cheese
the unreasoned life
that bore me a fighter