So they tore up the orchard and planted a house
From the seeds of the industry
For to build a community
It's a crust for the mudpie
That no one wants to eat
Anymore and anyway
That new crop, it don't need much tending
Just a few boards and nails for the mending
In the structure and the frame
And the foundation
All the spaces, they throw away in between
The blood red doors and the rotting beams
Where we hung the bodies, souls and minds
Of forgotten generations
And anything else that reminds
Suspended in space and in time
Their faces remain in rarefied light
Where the dying rays of day
Once made halos soft and lazy
There's still life in the dirt
If you can get around the root
Of the tree of the knowledge of
What makes a man labor for labor's sake
When he ain't even in on the take
When there's more at stake than a snake in a coil
Toothless, vilified and spoiled
Like a memory so easily spoiled
In its structure and the frame
And the foundation
So gather up your axes
Forget about paying your taxes
And hack your way to the root of the industry
