The Volcanic Slag Behind the Sea Wall (Slag)

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Behind the sea wall, crumbled basalt and concrete from 1923,
Edward H. Smith's survey marked it here,
Pacific Geological Annual, page forty-seven,
the only smelter on Point Nemo, iron dreams cooled to waste.
I sift with the rusty iron shovel, leather gloves stained black,
salt spray at 15 degrees Celsius, morning light at 6:30 AM.

[Chorus]
Slag, black like forged night, granular bite underfoot,
glassy sheen trapping bubbles from a century ago.
Slag, vitrified refuse, lapidary's quiet salvage,
naming the types: black, granular, glassy.

[Verse 2]
Wheelbarrow half-buried, rusted spokes like forgotten crew bones,
unnamed laborers carted this heap, tinned fish for supper,
acrid tang in the nostrils, metallic and briny.
I collect in small glass vials, granular shifts with each step,
damp chill on the surface, hissing whisper when I crack one open.
Edward's quote: treasure trove of failures, preserved in heaps.

[Bridge]
Gaps in the record, missing names of the crew,
unanswered alloys, copper or something experimental?
But the heap remains, behind the wall, a monument to crude furnaces.

[Chorus]
Slag, black like forged night, granular bite underfoot,
glassy sheen trapping bubbles from a century ago.
Slag, vitrified refuse, lapidary's quiet salvage,
naming the types: black, granular, glassy.

[Outro]
Just slag, innocent waste sounding somehow vulgar,
but here it's history, cold and specific, under the salt wind.