I dream in oily fluorescent swirls, I speak in plastic My wardrobe is nylon and PVC, my band is elastic It’s hard to find decent drumsticks but we’ve got bird bones and bits of buckets And my drummer can hit she can really raise a ruckus What’s this crystalline crunching beneath my feet? It’s just hundreds of fragile skulls of penguins and parakeets Some died miles away and flotsamed here some expired through violence And when I say violence I mean I am the Bird Queen of Garbage Island What’s up with the duck with the plastic quack? 35 North 135 West Who’s the little girl with the map on her back? 42 North 155 West Ask the macaque, ask the leatherback: Polyethylene feathers and a high-vis vest I am the Bird Queen of Garbage Island Gannets and gulls, petrels, puffins and pelicans, Make me a temple of nets and fish skeletons Next take the buoys, bottles, dongles and ping pong balls Build a wall all along the horizon and ten times as tall I lost an eye to an albatross with mischief in his heart But I replaced it with this ball-bearing painted to look the part I’m a leader with a singular vision, or if you prefer, a cyclops tyrant All hail the Bird Queen of Garbage Island What’s up with the duck with the plastic quack? 35 North 135 West Who’s the little girl with the map on her back? 42 North 155 West Ask the macaque, ask the leatherback: Polyethylene feathers and a high-vis vest I am the Bird Queen of Garbage Island