The Thousand Tombs Of Western Promise

Wayfarer

Compositor: Não Disponível

As the century turns
Everything goes cold
I reach for a faded tale
Of a nation once told

The new industrial God
Machine
The barons of toil
And their ever expanding reach
The driller a titan
The lender a lord
Prosperity in the open grave is what they preach

My twilight burns lonesome
The dream has been felled
I yearn for some respite
A shred of valor I once held

A hail to progress
And еternal returns
From the frontiеr towns
Billows of black
A palace of gold
He who saddled the iron horse
Pulls God's country in tow

Cursed!
Given unto the thousand tombs
Beguiled!
A mirage in black smoke
Abandoned!
Golden streets tarnished with
Blood
Idols of steam, gods of steel
And all else consumed

Is this not the path of heaven
I was put here to tread?
Years of toil is all here I have found
And a cross for the dead

Cursed!
Given unto the thousand tombs
Beguiled!
A mirage in black smoke
Abandoned!
Golden streets tarnished with
Blood
Idols of steam, gods of steel
And all else consumed

The thousand condemned to lie in the graves below
Tombs
The veil drifts to the ground of western
A looming shadow from the hill
Promise
The dream not die, it had never lived
An ill destined climb
Toward the city upon the hill
Never the first
There will ever be more still

Within in the land of opportunity
A thousand tombs await
A toast to thee, oh captains of industry
It was always you
You always held our fate