Chuck Brodsky Seven Miles Upwind
The trees up here are all a sickly brown
It's not for lack of rain - it's in the mist that creeps around
Every night when most people are asleep
It slinks across the valley - and into everything it seeps
There's a paper company - seven miles upwind
I sit outside on a summer's night - it irritates my skin
I get a little dizzy - sometimes my lips go numb
I wake up in the morning I can taste it on my tongue
The paper company employs this whole damn town
It'd wreck a lot of families if it ever were shut down
The last city council meeting went to hell
Neighbors turned on neighbors - people were starting to yell
The river's fish you cannot eat
You don't swim in the water - you don't even dip your feet
Downstream the people made a stink
Fed up with being treated with a nod-nod & a wink-wink
The local paper company burns my eyes
Coming from their smokestacks - you can see the vapors rise
Jobs...that's all you need to say around here
Babies'll let you kiss them and a marching band appears...jobs...
“No cause for concern,” say company personnel
“We operate within the law,” they say about the sickly smell
“I can personally guarantee they'd pass inspection”
Says the paper candidate the company ran in the most recent election
Paper company security - thanks me for my call
They will file a report - as they're required to by law
Then they ask me for my name - and my address
Why they'd want to know that - is anybody's guess
Paper company puts a burning in my nose
I have to come in off my porch - pull all the windows closed
Maybe I'm just a little too sensitive
Maybe I ought to find myself another place to live
Said the note I found tacked outside my door
