It's Fan Death

from by Disclaimer

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Despite having had no place to publish for some time, a reporter continues digging.


The barricades on Stadium will blink away the last joule.
The final flake of chemtrail snow will melt on your tongue.
Delamination claims the bootleg Snoopys on the ice cream stands.

Count the potholes to locate the buried crisis garden.
The sites were scrubbed. Construction GIFs abruptly beg your pardon.
Despite the damning evidence, a story starts to harden.
It's fan death. It's fan death. It's fan death. It's fan death.

Pulitzers to podbusters to forging money orders.
You adapt but you don't lose the eye of a reporter.
I thought I saw a woodchuck, but it was only a rusted pipe.

The official explanations are insulting and pernicious
But declining public comment only makes you seem suspicious
Like a "days since our last accident" clock that's displaying "---."

Whirling blades chop molecules, which causes suffocation.
I've found that schools that question this lose their accreditation.
A shoe-leather dyslogy for an entire nation.
It's fan death. It's fan death. It's fan death. It's fan death.


from They Burned for 18 Days!, released June 3, 2016
Chris Willie Williams: Vocals, bass, guitars, keyboards, drums, didgeridoo, Otamatone



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Disclaimer Bangor, Maine

Disclaimer is multi-instrumentalist and music critic Chris Willie Williams. He writes black-humored electro-indie-rock songs about government corruption, heartbreak, and things generally crashing to an unpleasant end. He loves puppies.

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