This is the place
where hard lessons are learned
This is the bell
that will ring at your burial
This is where somber men shake hands
And lowered voices carry
This is where baby learns the song
This is where baby learns
There’s decay in the grain
Decay in the barley
Our veins teem with traces of lead
And mercury
Decay in the grain
Decay in the foundry
We’re Perfectly calm
in the eye of the storm
This is the place
where mercy was fed to the wolves
This is the poetry of the end
Our language is not our heritage
It’s not music or the written word
It’s the passing of souls
‘Neath the blade of the ax It’s decay in the grain
Decay in the barley
How our veins teem with traces of lead
And mercury
Decay in the grain
Decay in the foundry
We’re perfectly calm
in the eye of the storm
This is the place
where hard lessons are learned
This is the bell
that will ring at your burial