Heave The Bellows by The Spook of the Thirteenth Lock Lyrics

Heave the bellows
And rise the flames
Without sacrifice
Nothing is made
A sword, a plough
A horse to be shod
And a bog to burned
Clod by clod
New born and banished And overwhelmed
Frail and rattled
Unable to defend
In vain struggle
Against the deepening dark
And the rising tide
Of a shattered heart
Temper brittle metal into finest steel
Hammer the misshapen right back into shape
Break the weakest spirit for the common good
All things surely must, lose their sheen and rust
Crumble ever slowly into dust