Nothing like corium lava in the morning;
Eating through the floor day by day.
Nothing like stinking smoking slag on the dance floor.
Pouring down in molten layers into the ground
Black smoke rising and coating all around
with contaminated poisons in the air and the ground.
I cry radioactive tears
and my bones ache with potassium salts,
While cesium distractions poison my mind
And radioactive iodine tumors close my throat
While like the mad Hatter I loose my mind
Thinking that these fools have stolen my years.
Chistopher H. Holte first written October 5, 2012