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Empire sits on the edge of a hill
Born out of a gypsum mine
Held at once 300 souls
And none of them were mine
Now theyâre just ghosts in the streets
Wandering a land that sleeps
Once it was a lively place
Now just tumbleweeds
The houses they are silent
Quiet as thieves
Now theyâre just ghosts in the streets
Wandering a land that sleeps
The miners callused hands
The women who planted seed on the land
Empire met its end
Once youâre gone you canât go back
the locks they have all froze
The lid upon the coffin
Now it has been closed
Now theyâre just ghosts in the streets
Wandering a land that sleeps
The men who built the Empire
Up from the ground
missed the cracks in the foundation
One blow and it all falls down
The miners callused hands
The women who planted seed on the land
Empire met its end