I am riding Watt's engine thru ragged centuries of progress. Wood and iron and steel and steam and I still dream relentless!

These machines don't work for us, they work us, furnace fouled by rust, alive between the diamonds and the dust, this town never trusted us.

I sleep to the sound of hammers, but in the end, the Rea will rise again.

These engines don't stop for mortal men, not even their factories outlasted them. My teeth chatter like snare rolls,

I timeskip and the skyline evolves. A roof garden! (so grow something) I'm the last of my line still holding.

My last name on a blue plaque on the crumbling ruins of the wrong building.

I sleep to the sound of hammers, but in the end, the Rea will rise again.