When the Work Runs Out | Southern Folk Music - GHOST OF THE SOUTH
Lyrics by：Andrew M
Composed by：Andrew M
There's a line at the mill
It's grown too long
Hands in pockets
Faces drawn
A whistle blows
But it's all for show
The wheels don't turn
They know where to go
What do we do when the works runs out
No answer left just the same old doubt
We were promised more
We were promised plenty
Now the cupboard's bare
The field's near empty
The road stretches far
But it leads nowhere
Old trucks park
Engine stripped bare
Men on porches
Staring through time
Counting hours that don't feel like mine
It's the quiet that cuts
It's the still that stings
When there's no machine no hammer's ring oh
What do we do when the work runs out
No answers left just the same old doubt
We were promised more
We were promised plenty
Now the cupboard's bare
The field's near empty
I heard them talking down by the fence
Words like fire the air was tense
They spoke of blame
They spoke of plans
But the talk just echoes like hollowed out lands