The Forge

There's a glow in the night & deep red embers scatter all around
Steam rising from the water to such a wonderful sound
Beating on the anvil, keeping new metal in tow
Even strokes but the tempo is rising now

& what will it be? Every new shape starts this journey
Summoned from the flame & beaten into life.
Hanging from the hooks are horseshoes, pots & pans.
Some for the Master, some for the worker of Lands

The bellows & the furnace dance in furious harmony
Wind & flame on a bed of earth in elemental symmetry
Born out of sweat in a battle to commence
Grappling with the raw flow with just his implements
Long into the early hours, we hear his song
But by morning the work will be over (the work will be over)
By morning the task will be over (the task will be over)
By morning the smoke will have cleared & a new day dawns

Now the glow is all day as giant machines keep the metal turning
Mass producing parades of same product, side by side they roll to the end of the line
Gone is the single hammer blow, it's all measured performance
So the tempo never starts to rise within the air conditioned walls
The factory walls