The Granulating Dark Satanic Mills

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