The Thirteenth Coal Mine Disaster

Are you down there? I hear my voice echo in despair Darkness engulfs us and it stinks of methane in the air I am tremulous at the thought of your demise The lack of security seems to be a monetary compromise Feeling abandoned as the tycoons plunder our spirit Hiding from public view with their alibis beneath an inhuman disguise I am the Appalachian worker playing blue grass to transmit the heritage of my surroundings with my hillbilly roots. Proud of my independence as a miner in West Virginia But the union hasn’t kept up the straps on our boots They seem to sleep in the same bed and all in cahoots with the Wall Street bums with their pretty gardenias. Is the union going to bust? I am scared to death it must God shed Your grace on our humble homes as consolation. We need a steady guidance to help us through their tactics Collaborating for easy cash! This is their malicious practice. As Lee Dorsey sang of how tired he must be our plight was a hit “Working in a Coal Mine” I whistled every day as groovy as could be. I always was able to read between the lines and feel their iniquity with their demonic minds plotting to ruin our hearts in misery. So as my colleague sits and waits with no oxygen to spare finally we’ll strike against the molesting hands of those who do not care. Slaves of a system which appears to have no change in sight It continues to badger our only aspirations for a wholesome life With the villainous director with his pompous crooked nose We listen to his propaganda and the postulates he will propose And scathe his hypocrisy with a hoax of generosity and dare his assumptions with his dishonest rapport and laisse-faire. Filled with an energetic fury and with every hand in one we challenge with insurrection all of their diabolical fun. Tipping over their tables to challenge the evil that has been done! Since his soul has been trapped in sad seclusion We have been contemplating a just conclusion With the falling of dusk come the bats of hell Flying their paths through a nightfall’s dungeon Ringing are the melancholic surrealistic bells preparing this company’s ultimate form of destruction.