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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