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I fell in to Picher, OK
Covered in chat
But with nothing to say
Gusts heaving dust
Through the holes in our roofs
Don’t know where to go
But we sure gotta move
3000 fists
Like a throng of Tom Joads
But the tractors they send
Are driven by Ghosts
For the sins of our fathers
We can stay so they can
Bury us at home
I woke up on an outbound train
In a chemical bath
They never did drain
Dads dragging kids
Climbing poison mounds
Toward the sun setting fast
On their way out of town
3000 fists
Like a throng of Tom Joads
But the tractors they send
Are driven by Ghosts
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For the sins of our fathers
We can stay so they can
Bury us at home
There’s a cancer in them mountains
Running auburn in the streams
But Tar Creek can’t build houses
On the hollows of our dreams
This machine can’t slay old Doe Run
We got no Guthries at the wheel
Our lungs are burned with cadmium
From generations trading lives for steel
I woke up in Galena today
Rubbed my eyes, but it all looked the same
Cracks in the streets breathing water and lime
We’re standing for now but it’s a matter of time
3000 fists
Like a throng of Tom Joads
But the tractors they send
Are driven by Ghosts
For the sins of our fathers
We can stay so they can
Bury us at home
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