You can take your fucking second Earth,
Swap it for the one you’ve screwed around.
Stack your plastic, sewage-ridden turf,
And shove it in this hell-forsaken ground.
Dig up all the corpses of the things you feared destroyed,
Point a canon at this horrid place and fire all your shit into the void.
You think you’ve got it bad, try waking up
in a world that hates you back.
Maria says it’s beautiful as she hides another panic attack.
They say you don’t get nightmares when you sleep for twenty years, well that’s a lie.
But it beats watching your dreams appear before you just to rot away and die.
Take this one it’s gone, how about this one it’s gone and this one it’s gone it’s gone it’s gone it’s gone…
All those years of preparation that we all just tossed away,
Fifty scientists for breathing masks we ditched the second day.
Try working through their blueprints, try picking out a song,
Try kicking back in rhythm but they’ve even got that wrong.
It’s like they left the lyrics for us but forgot the fucking chorus.
This isn’t habitation it’s humanity’s castration quest.
Thinking back to what you did to home I guess that’s for the best.
They put us here to explore,
But we just got bored.

We camped out in the forest before we started losing crew.
It’s not the best of signs when shelter tries to choke and smother you.
Our white suits are coated with a dust that doesn’t clean,
Now our bodies match the scenery it’s harder to be seen and we want to be seen.
Yeah we want to be seen.
On the television sets so the people don’t forget the hell they’ve put us through.
Where they watch and say looks pretty but I’m glad that they chose you.
And the leaves dig into your shoes and they never leave,
Twigs wrapped around poor Michael ‘til he smiled but couldn’t breathe.
Sam tells me he’ll be right back and I know he’s left to cry,
His hands are changing colour and you’ve got to wonder why.

Everything is pink.
Everything is pink.

There’s a forest on the hillside it goes along for fifty miles.
The plants all sway from side to side and greet us.
They whistle all our names and come to meet us.
Look out by the waterfall, Stephanie…
Watch the ripples twisting through the pool…
You didn’t look behind you,
Now the lilies creep inside you.
Everything is pink.
Everything is pink…
Your blood and your bones and what’s left of your soul is pink…
And I don’t want to take soil samples anymore,
I want that feeling of excitement that we loved before,
Let’s explore the world together,
Enjoy the rainy weather,
Find animals all tame but clever
It’s plants.
Everywhere we’ll be the only thing we see is plants.
What’s that scurrying in the bushes,
Come over let’s take a look.
Get your camera and notepad ready,
When we know it’s just the bushes themselves that shook,
And it’s plants.
We do a little dance when we think we’ve got a chance but it’s plants.
A world so big and far away and its plants.
A crew of disappointed zoologists and it’s plants.
Not even an array of colours, you’ve got shades of pink but where are the others?
Everything starts to look the same when it’s plants.
Did that one move? Don’t be a fool it’s just plants.
Did you hear a scream it must be a dream,
When it’s plants.
There’s a forest on the hillside it goes along for fifty miles.
The plants all sway from side to side and greet us.
They whistle all our names and come to meet us…

Watch the ducks, have some lunch, play in the park,
Then computer games.

Parents send you off to bed,
Sarah’s asleep since the car door shut beside.

You’d been driving so far,
She didn’t notice.
The lampposts all rushing by.
Colours shifting the sky.

And you’re finally home.

You look to the ceiling
in your blue fluffy sheets
And grab on as the day
Whirls by in your head.

And then you close your eyes.
And nothing happens.
Then you close your eyes,
And it doesn’t go away.

Sarah’s still fast asleep you’re strapped to an amusement park
And it’s not dark anymore
Lit up and unblinking
No time anymore the sun is shining through the room.

It’s the morning and you’re tired
But more holidays await
You shrug it off and think of play
With friends in the park.

Breakfast is tiring.
Sarah says she dreamt of a garden
Where everything’s flowering.

And it’s always magical,
But you’ve still never been.

You never ask kids,
If they got any sleep.
You never ask children
If they got any sleep.

Because it’s always true.

And now you’re coming up to 17.
When you close your eyes it’s always whack-a-mole with thoughts.

Didn’t you have a good day?
Aren’t your adventures great?
Don’t you love your friends and your fortune and the place you grew up in,
You do.
But not the time between.

Now you’re twenty five and after work.
You try to make it through drinks and chat to that oh
But your eyelids sink, it’s time for home.
But there you stare at your phone as you still can’t sleep.

Perhaps take a fourth sleeping pill, are you under the limit still?
This one will surely do it you’re finally closing your eyes.

But nothing happens.
The daylight is breaking, your shoulders are aching.
It’ll soon be start up time

Perhaps another pill. There must be a dozen in that bottle you can hardly lift.

You can only count three.

And you’re finally...

I’ve been sleeping so long, I don’t even know how,
The whistling usually bothers me but I’ve got through the night.
And this space feels right.
The leaves are soft and the sun is bright.

Swipe the pink dust from out of my eye lids look about.
See who’s out making breakfast, discuss our day,
Find out what the readings say.
I watch the rays piercing the canopy
When I should be getting up.
There’s a voice on the forest floor.
Maybe wait three minutes more, it’s not like I haven’t done the early shift before.
But there’s that voice on the forest floor
Telling me to get up.

It’s the voice of silence, no crackling beans in a pan,
No Maria, no Michael no Sam,
The camp’s all been torn to shreds.
Pink petals all splashed with red.
I look about but I want to rest.
Sleep a minute more, then maybe adventure, have a look at some pictures of home again
It takes a minute for the news to get through my brain.

The camp’s all been torn apart.
But I can’t feel a change of heart,
It’s still beating the same and I only want rest today.

I see a look of horror as Maria’s dragged away…

Above the doorway where there used to be a pizza place, in neat writing that was slightly too small for the area it had been put in, a sign reads “Chloe’s”. Under that on another line that should probably have been bigger lettering reads “Houseplant rescue” followed by a telephone number.
There aren’t many places like it so Chloe gets a steady stream of visitors. In come diseased, pet-devoured, unloved, un-watered, over-watered, move-snapped and actually just doing their natural thing houseplants and out come, in most cases transformed flora and happy customers.
Chloe has bright green eyes and probably the palest skin of any human you’ve ever seen. Even more UV lighting than a cannabis factory makes no difference to her complexion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her put on sunscreen. Anyone who worked for her seems to gradually turn paler as well. She pays well but doesn’t need that many staff so it’s usually just her and a few people watering on weekends anyway.
Outside of work Chloe’s chatty and not even that plant crazy. She gets asked for advice when people find out what she does and answers but other than that keeps up every day interests and friends. When we went round her place for drinks once I swear I saw her dripping plant fertilizer into her wine glass.
One day a partner bought her some flowers when we were at a bar and she just stared at them all evening, occasionally touching the stems. I don’t think we ever saw the partner after that. She’s had others since. I probably wouldn’t bring flowers if you’re considering it.
The plants in the surgery are beautiful. I don’t know if they all belong to customers and are waiting to be given back or if she keeps some out for show but they’re never for sale. Some are huge. She could probably make double what she does if she sold a few.
I wondered if she played them music as I’ve heard that works but she only seems to whistle when she walks around them. She’s pretty good. Not melodies I can recognise or recall but she’s probably the best whistler I’ve ever heard.

There are enemies on every side,
You’ve been running but you’d rather hide.
But the shelter is the enemy.
The shelter is the enemy.
You try to tear it down, but it grows back.
It grows back stronger if you wait any longer you’ll be one of them.
You’ve been running so long through a fifty mile forest,
You’ve got nettle stings and rose thorns in your chest.
Rashes take the rest.
Because the shelter is the enemy. The shelter is the enemy.
Look that fence it’s the enemy, look that door it’s the enemy look at that sky. Look at that sky.
You’ve trampled through the muck is survival more than luck?
Your camp was made of three and now it’s one.
Your luck is almost done.
Every branch you push back could be death.
You’re running out of running breath.
You’ve done forty four and your sweat is sore and your sweat is sore.
Six miles is the enemy, the gateway is the enemy, the finish line’s the enemy, escaping is the enemy the shelter is the enemy.
Sunlight through the canopy.
The shelter is the enemy.
The shelter is the enemy.
The shelter is the enemy.

She stares there looking right at you,
You footstep forward get a closer view.
Her skin is paler than paper and she’s smiling wide.

The branches part to make a path for you,
You footstep backward get a further view,
Her eyes match the pink of the flowers and she’s smiling wide.
She’s still the same one you always knew, your brain tells your body that it isn’t true,
She still looks beautiful you could give in to the forest floor.
Listen right and hear a whirring of engines,
You’re out and you’ve found your ship.
The trees and she gesture to you that there’s a better trip.

Her face is welcoming and she’s smiling wide.
Your bones are shaking with love and you’re terrified.
She’s the very earth you’re walking on and she’s telling you to stay…

All the light’s in the middle of the room.
All the light’s in the middle of the room.
I turn around and see you in the corner in the gloom.
Come over to the middle of the room.
You’re always sitting on the fence all night,
Drop into the garden it’ll be all right.
They may dig a better tomb but here the flowers grow forever,
Come on over to the middle of the room.
There’s no point being wary for this afterlife’s not scary,
Come on over to the middle of the room.
You like the feel of my skin and voice don’t you?
You like the old parts you remember but there’s also something new.
You’re warming to the smell and you know it’s ending well,
Come on over to the middle of the room.
You looked up to the sky and saw a saviour,
But we all know running’s not the right behaviour.
Wave them off and say you’ll manage,
Let them take their metal carriage.
And leave you with us in the middle of the room.