Graveyard of Ships

English selling Russian, American foreign power
Everyone prospers at twenty cents an hour
Half a billion dollars in sales headed to Alung
The ships reach their final resting ground driven into mud

Sordid scenery
Endless poverty

Where ships go to die
Never knowing why
Heaven not in the sky
Where ships go to die

Many perched along the shore, many more to come
Piles of twisted metal, the result and the sum
Devastation is a sign of prosperity
A result of the cold war that has been set free

Being felt for pieces as they leave, felt up to the bone
Old and young alike, a thousand miles from home
Eight weeks to turn a ship to scrap, injuries no worth pay
Relentless schedule, days turn into days

Where ships go to die
Never knowing why
Heaven not in the sky
Where ships go to die

Meltdown and transformation, much need by poverty
Making peace in not their final resting ground, old enemies
Cargo, freighters, war, peace, there is no prejudice
Such power and beauty, reduced to nothing more than this

Fragile people, fragile world
Far from home, lives unfurl
Longing for family, longing to be
As long as the ships roll in, they eat thankfully

Where ships go to die
Never knowing why
Heaven not in the sky
Where ships go to

Graveyard of ships
Land proved to be
Where ships go to die
The end of the sea


Graveyard Of Ships

LucianBlaque