| Here I stand with my own kin
|
| At the end of everything
|
| Finaly the dream is gone
|
| I’ve had enough of hanging on
|
| I came here with all my friends
|
| Leaving behind the weight of years
|
| Leaving alone in a flood of tears
|
| Out on a prospect that never ends
|
| All the landscape was the mill
|
| Grim as the reaper with a heart like hell
|
| With a river of bodies flowing with the bell
|
| Here was the future for hands of skill
|
| We built all this with our own hands
|
| But who could know we built on sand?
|
| Now it’s barren all to soon
|
| There is no miracle in ruin
|
| We set the flame and it burned so blue
|
| With open eyes I watched it grow
|
| A sea of palms in an ocean of snow
|
| Hands with the courage to start anew
|
| Here was a home for the lost and scared
|
| Out of the yards and the run dry dock
|
| To the call of the steel that would never stop
|
| Here was a refuge for those who dared
|
| In a steeltown when the heat’s on
|
| I went down and the heat turned on me
|
| In a steeltown when the heat’s on
|
| I went down and the heat turned on me
|
| And now I stand with my own kin
|
| At the end of everything
|
| Finaly the dream is gone
|
| Nothing left to hang upon |