This place has changed for good, your economy theory said it would.
It’s hard for us to understand we can’t give up our jobs the way we should.
Our blood has stained the coal, we tunneled deep inside the nation’s soul.
We matter more than pounds and pence your economic theory makes no sense.

The seam lies underground, three million years of pressure packed it down.
We walk through ancient forest lands and light a thousand cities wth our hands.
Your dark satanic walls have made redundant all our mining skills.
You can’t exchange a six inch band for all the poisoned streams in Cumberland.

And should the children weep, the turning world will sing their souls to sleep.
When you have sunk without a trace, the universe will suck me into place.

One day in a nuclear age they may understand our rage
They build machines that they can’t control and bury the waste in a great big hole.
Power was to become cheap and clean, grimy faces were never seen.
Deadly for twelve thousand years is carbon fourteen.
We work the black seam together