Morning Gathering or Evening Prayer
We still battle for a season fair
We still huddle in the freezing air
For a summer that's not even there
If that sun won't rise on our horizon
We'll march on to spite the skies
And find that wheel of progress so well worn
Brought us no shelter from the storm
We still battle for a season fair
We still huddle in the freezing air
For a summer that's not even there
If that sun won't rise on our horizon
We'll march on to spite the skies
And find that wheel of progress so well worn
Brought us no shelter from the storm
Heave lads, ho lads
Forget the comforts of home, you're a nomad
We've lost so much since we first started,
Are our hearts cold or are we cold hearted?
So pray to your lord or your foreman
That the sun might rise in the mornin'
They told us Hell was warm
But our empire fell for shelter from the storm
Forget the comforts of home, you're a nomad
We've lost so much since we first started,
Are our hearts cold or are we cold hearted?
So pray to your lord or your foreman
That the sun might rise in the mornin'
They told us Hell was warm
But our empire fell for shelter from the storm
So burn us in the furnace
Let our souls ignite the flame
Use our bones to stoke the embers
Use our blood to oil the chains
We are nothing now but engines
Rending flesh to find a way
And as we fall, we know we die
To light a brighter day
Every shiver will deliver us deliverance in time
Burn the incense of our innocence
and in a sense we thrive
Pray the future that we're building
Will be worth its weight in lives
So take heed, but take no pity
Let our souls ignite the flame
Use our bones to stoke the embers
Use our blood to oil the chains
We are nothing now but engines
Rending flesh to find a way
And as we fall, we know we die
To light a brighter day
Every shiver will deliver us deliverance in time
Burn the incense of our innocence
and in a sense we thrive
Pray the future that we're building
Will be worth its weight in lives
So take heed, but take no pity
The wheels of progress frozen motionless
Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
Then death is coming home
The wheels of progress frozen motionless
Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
Well, then, we're going home.
Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
Then death is coming home
The wheels of progress frozen motionless
Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
Well, then, we're going home.
The demon of the storm snarled its worst outside the ice-crept window. In the distance, the generator snarled back. A single flame-wreathed eye of hell standing defiant to the storm. Inside we hid like rats. Curled against one another. The braver men were in the mining caves, laying down their lives to keep our little eye of hell glaring skyward. Braver men were in the wards, burning anything they could find to keep the blanket-laden people warm. But us? We watched. The storm roared at us, and the generator roared back. We watched, huddled against the far corner and eyes locked as the mercury dropped and ice swiftly crept across the glassy pane. Wisps of winter seeped through the wood and steel planks, and we just huddled together for warmth and watched. The clouds bloomed. Gathered. Shivers of ice-kissed light speared through the clouds as the swirling snows and winds tried to strangle the generator in the distance. The fire flickered. Cowed for the briefest of moments as the mercury continued to fall. Flickered, until the decision was made. The storm snarled at us. Bared its teeth. So the safeties were lifted. The coal flung into the maw of hell. Our little maw of hell. And the generator roared back at the storm.
— The City Must Survive
