|
From the weeping womb to the tomb |
|
Towering fuming smokestacks loomed |
|
Aloft the emancipated industrial |
|
mercantile maroon |
|
Your heirs will be deprived this fate |
|
A penitentiary as consumer villeins |
|
Never to enter through |
|
the grim rusting factory gates |
|
Six, zero, two, six |
|
Nine, six, one |
|
Torn apart in the soul destroying... |
|
Six, zero, two, six |
|
Nine, six, one |
|
The granulating dark satanic mills... |
|
Subsisting shackled drudgers & drones |
|
Disassembly line of skin & bone |
|
Collieries not beaches |
|
lie beneath the paving stones |
|
When chattel black turned to white |
|
Rigid binding chains were hidden from sight |
|
The unborn will quench |
|
the thirstful smouldering kiln's fires |
|
Six, zero, two, six |
|
Nine, six, one |
|
Torn apart in the soul destroying... |
|
Six, zero, two, six |
|
Nine, six, one |
|
Sweat & no redemption in the dark satanic mills |
|
An existence, subservient, binded you'll see |
|
"A working class hero is something to be" |
|
An existence, subservient, blinded you'll seed |
|
A working class hero is something to bleed |
