Dead Industrial Atmosphere

There's dark satanic mills and there's green and pleasant hills

Could be riding through Lancashire with all it's

Witchcraft dead industrial air

You can hear a melancholy desert song

And smell George Orwell as a funeral goes on

There's plenty with a license to prostitute

And room to develop the ultimate building

The air in here is dead industrial and so austere

The air round here smells of religion and Vauxies beer

We are this world we watch the sands drain from our hands

We're naive but happy or so it seems

We've all seen the big red bus faces gazing expressionless

The breakfast joint to kill the beast helps sow the

Seed for all manner of dangerous things

Here it goes again as melancholy as the last one

And when you feel as dogmatic as the next

It's time to read into what it is that you do

The air in here is dead industrial and so austere

The air round here smells of religion and Sunday dinner

We are this world we watch the sands drain from our hands

This is our world we are the waters that we learned to work

You can hear a melancholy desert song

And smell George Orwell as the funeral goes on

There's plenty with a license to prostitute

And room to develop the ultimate building

The air in here is dead industrial and so austere

The air round here smells of religion and Vauxies beer

We are this world the sand drains from our very hands

We're naive but happy or so it seems

The air in here is dead industrial and so austere

The atmosphere smells of religion and Vauxies beer

This is our world we are the waters

That learned to work you smell the others