The industry has crumbled
Succumbed to economic turmoil
At the behest of sordid flames
Tearing down tracts of livelihood
My grandfather built this mill
He carved it with his bare hands
And gave work to all of his sons
In the forests of Newfoundland
But now it sits a desolate husk
Rusting in decay, weathered waste away
Abandoned for more than a decade
Falling apart, ripped at the seams
My grandfather built this mill
He carved it with his bare hands
And gave work to all of his sons
In the forests of Newfoundland
Ugh!
With sawdust as my ashes
I shall fade slowly into the earth
Leaving nothing behind
But the nostalgia and a memory
I go to join my father
Beneath the dirt, above the aether
And my legacy will rot away
To be consumed by the roots of nature