Attention all bunker botanists and fallout farmers! The Atomic Sisters are back with a green-thumbed anthem that’ll make you want to dig in the dirt—radiation be damned. This one’s for everyone who ever grew hope in a coffee can.
Seeds of Rebellion
The Sisters never bought into the “nothing grows anymore” propaganda. While the rest of the wasteland was hoarding canned beans and arguing over water rations, these gals were elbow-deep in irradiated soil, humming show tunes to their seedlings.
They built their garden in a bombed-out pharmacy—ceiling half-gone, walls cracked open to the sky. What the doomsayers called “structurally unsound,” the Sisters called “natural greenhouse lighting.”
The Waiting Season
“Botany Under Bomb Light” was written during what the Sisters call The Waiting Season—that long stretch after the bombs when everyone was too scared to trust the earth. The soil glowed a little. The rain tasted metallic. The dandelions grew teeth.
But the Sisters? They planted anyway. Coffee can by coffee can, seed by stubborn seed. They rigged grow lights from salvaged flares, collected rain in dented ladles, and sang to their sprouts while the Geiger counter clicked its nervous rhythm in the corner.
Growing Against the Odds
The carrots came up glowing—but they crunched just fine. The beans started tapping out Morse code—but they tasted like victory. And when that first sunflower broke through the rubble? Well, that’s when they knew they had a song.
This track isn’t just about gardening. It’s about defiance. It’s about coaxing beauty from blast zones and refusing to let the end of the world kill your chlorophyll dreams.
BOTANY UNDER BOMB LIGHT
by: Atomic Sisters
I plant my thyme where the crater cracked
Where the sun peeks in through the ceiling slat
With a coffee can spade and a ladle for rain
I’m coaxing up lettuce on a windowpane
It’s botany under bomb light
Petunias blooming by flare flare night
We prune with gloves and hum to the seeds
While the rad count rises and the marigold feeds
My carrots glow but they sure do crunch
And my beans tap Morse at a quarter past lunch
The dandelions duck when the sirens scream
But they pop back up in my fallout dream
It’s botany under bomb light
Where compost sings and the turnips bite
We dig with spoons we mulch with grace
We’re the bunker bells of the garden race
The violets bloom in filtered air
The ivy climbs the bunker stairs
And when the world forgets to be kind
A sunflower grows in my radioactive mind
It’s botany under bomb light
With blossom breath and chlorophyll fright
We sow with song
We reap with pride
In the blasted earth
We bloom inside