Permafrost
On the other side of paradise, scenic mountain views
I remember brick houses and emptied out factory ruins
In my head’s nothing but scalpers selling bouts over downed balloons
Attached to a piece of property somewhere out in the boonies
And the mass of collective consciousness still comes down from Vespucci
The endless amount of stock tips and counterfeit value printed on loose leaf
All I encounter’s been priced out, the titles crowns for the new kings
All I hear in this crowded boomtown that I scour for futile relief is now limited to rote palindromes calling out for these feudal deeds
Routinely grossing the same outcome through whatever comes out of this, feud or peace
Counting rain clouds in a maelstrom drowned out in pursuit of elusive means
Surviving off of what trickles down from São Paulo to Athens, Greece
The packages rolled out and ruled out any new avenues and paths to proceed
It’s all so familiar, couldn’t count any lapses in memory
Got a cadastral map to resilience so innavigable no one could read
And every stat is per capita there’s campgrounds in the streets
Yeah
Every pacifist around is housed under a dream
Every last attempt to balance is cast out in the sea
Every past ambition met with assassins and catastrophes
Every cataclysmic collapse is another tally to keep
I’m from a place named after decay on stainless machines
In a haven who’s namesake is the same as the state layin claims to Medellin
Made my way to where they laid anchor and paved a way through the trees
They even raised up a commemoration to the purveyors of disease
That stands tall to this day overlooking the sleeping lady from the east
Before that, my great great grandfather landed in NYC
Around the time when Il Duce had black raiments filling the streets
Caught a train across the Appalachians and touched base in Saint Marguerite
Mined the same shit that built the statue of David around the foundation of later motifs
And today, I’m on top of this terrain that in places’ll permanently freeze
Where in every quarterly statement the profit rate will only increase
Tied in to devastation and displacement wherever they lay their reach
And biweekly paychecks won’t cover the cost to sleep under a roof that holds the snow as it accumulates into feet
And if you won’t scrape for some pieces of change then you ain’t gonna eat
Every pacifist around is housed under a dream
Every last attempt to balance is cast out in the sea
Every past ambition met with assassins and catastrophes
Every cataclysmic collapse is another tally to keep