IN THE MACHINE
When you're in the machine, the world is hid
and we keep what we don't want out
with metal plating and metal ribs
guns for the ghosts and the doubt.
It's a world on wheels, and Lord is it dark
when the hatches are locked all 'round
the light in your eyes is from the spark
that burned their houses down.
I take what's right at the end of a gun
as I've taken the steel from the earth
and the earth yields up from the grip of the stones
a power procured with a curse.
When you're in the machine, the smoke of hell
perfumes the deadened air
the ring, ring, ringing of the bell
is the end of the affair.