So they tore up the orchard and planted a house   From the seeds of the industry   For to build a community   It's a crust for the mudpie   That no one wants to eat   Anymore and anyway      That new crop, it don't need much tending   Just a few boards and nails for the mending   In the structure and the frame   And the foundation      All the spaces, they throw away in between   The blood red doors and the rotting beams   Where we hung the bodies, souls and minds   Of forgotten generations      And anything else that reminds   Suspended in space and in time      Their faces remain in rarefied light   Where the dying rays of day   Once made halos soft and lazy   There's still life in the dirt   If you can get around the root   Of the tree of the knowledge of   What makes a man labor for labor's sake   When he ain't even in on the take   When there's more at stake than a snake in a coil   Toothless, vilified and spoiled   Like a memory so easily spoiled   In its structure and the frame   And the foundation      So gather up your axes   Forget about paying your taxes   And hack your way to the root of the industry