Graveyard of Ships

English selling Russian, American foreign power Everyone prospers at twenty cents an hour Half a billion dollars in sales headed to Alung The ships reach their final resting ground driven into mud Sordid scenery Endless poverty Where ships go to die Never knowing why Heaven not in the sky Where ships go to die Many perched along the shore, many more to come Piles of twisted metal, the result and the sum Devastation is a sign of prosperity A result of the cold war that has been set free Being felt for pieces as they leave, felt up to the bone Old and young alike, a thousand miles from home Eight weeks to turn a ship to scrap, injuries no worth pay Relentless schedule, days turn into days Where ships go to die Never knowing why Heaven not in the sky Where ships go to die Meltdown and transformation, much need by poverty Making peace in not their final resting ground, old enemies Cargo, freighters, war, peace, there is no prejudice Such power and beauty, reduced to nothing more than this Fragile people, fragile world Far from home, lives unfurl Longing for family, longing to be As long as the ships roll in, they eat thankfully Where ships go to die Never knowing why Heaven not in the sky Where ships go to Graveyard of ships Land proved to be Where ships go to die The end of the sea