A Firestorm Consuming Indianapolis Santino Fontana

[ELIOT, spoken]
One one-way ticket to Indianapolis, please.

(sung)
Out the window of this bus—
The lowest flattest land I’ve ever seen
An endless, dry expanse of brown and green
And in the distance lies the city Indianapolis
Indianapolis
Out the window of this bus—
Are trailer parks of trailers rusting red
Forgotten dwellings, rotting, still and dead,
Extending all the way to Indianapolis
Indianapolis
Indianapolis
In 1861
My great grandfather Noah
Was handed by his dad, a pioneer,
Six hundred acres not too far from here
He founded factories
For making saws
And so he’d not be at the mercy of
Steelmakers, he bought a steel mill—
And so he’d not be at the mercy of
Coal miners, he bought a coal mine—
And so he’d not be at the mercy of
Moneymen, he bought a bank.
In 1881
My great grandfather married
He found a woman who had very big ones—
About four hundred thousand very big ones—
Begat they Samuel
Who entered politics
And Sam, the front-pager
The major republican
Purchased a granary
And Sam, the front-pager
The major republican
Purchased a newspaper
And Sam, the front-pager
The major republican
Often encouraged
Local militias to shoot into crowds
Of striking workers.
In 1899
My grandad, unrepentant,
And heedless of the charming things he’d done
Decided he would bless us with a son—
Begat he father
The worthy senator
Begat he me
Who marched to war,
Who marched to Germany
In nineteen forty-four