Our Smoldering Factory Town

Our Smoldering Factory Town free trade, a brick around It’s gurgling, swollen neck. Surrounding gray quiet smolder, evokes, Once thriving factory smoke A Crumbling horoscope once paid it's worker's, soaked in quiet desperation. We are it's rusty antiques sinking ships on outsourced seas a swollen, bailout casualty a fallow field, a dustbowl breeze While children sew our sneakers In bananna sweatshops, cheaper hands can make, children's fate wont matter, they'll dig deeper.