The shuffling hoards

Stifled by the fire from the core

Walking head bowed

Where the overlord enslaves with twisted law


The lost ones ask

‘Why must we exist within the confines of the mechanical vaults

Like grinding cogs in the great machine

Who turn and twist towards the grave

And burn inside the furnace of everlasting flame?’

‘As twilight ghosts we exist beneath a steam filled mist

We cry for help

But no one hears

We must complete our task

Through all the pain filled years

But darkness keeps us cast

Within the shadow of an everlasting night

That seems to last forever 

And keeps us shrouded out of Moloch's sight

But wen we greet the Godhead at the Pearly Gates

No longer will our souls be buried

In the chasmed coffin of the living dead

For even though the bone has shed the flesh

Only in death will the workers find their freedom

So when the wind batters and grinds

The rust stained machines

The hidden ones up above

Who never hear the moans and screams

Of those unseen

Who toil for such a meagre wage

And never work for love…