Saturated Carbon

Lyrics

Fresh from the box.
Smell of polypropylene and dry mineral dust.

Little white tomb.
You were born in Taunusstein, 1966.
Heinz Hankammer's idea.
A sealed shell full of black sand.
Coconut-shell carbon granules, ion-exchange resin beads.
Waiting for the first cold shock from the tap.
The rubber O-ring seals the deal.

And you take it.
You take it all in.
Everything that comes down the line.
The copper, the mercury, the taste of the city pipes.
You hold it in your black heart so I don't have to.
One hundred and fifty liters 'til you're done.
Saturated.

This is Michael Hoopert's patent.
Number 5,980,743.
A perfect trap, sealed at every seam.
Designed to fail, built to be thrown away.
You catch the sixty milligrams of lead.
You catch the ghost of chlorine from the county plant.
You were never meant to be flushed out.
Never meant to be recharged and saved.

And you take it.
You take it all in.
Everything that comes down the line.
The copper, the mercury, the taste of the city pipes.
You hold it in your black heart so I don't have to.
One hundred and fifty liters 'til you're done.
Saturated.

Somewhere inside you, a trace of lignin.
A memory of a coconut shell before the fire.
Now you're just a vessel for the things we wash away.
Heavy in my hand now.
So much heavier than when you were new.
Full of things with no names.

The last drop.
The indicator light blinks red.
It's over.
You did your job.
Now you go to the landfill.
A little white coffin full of captured poisons.
Silent.
Saturated.