Taconite Dreams

Steel town souls and iron rain skies. Dust on our boots and fire

in our eyes. We were born with calloused hands. Digging dreams out of frozen

land. Taconite dreams. Rust red and loud. Built from the

mines and buried clouds. We shine under sweat and northern beams.

Bleeding stone for our taconite dreams. Friday nights we light

the town. Drinking hopes while the sun goes down. Motors hum

like a lullaby. In a place where the strong don't die. Taconite dreams.

Rust red and loud. Built from the mines and buried clouds.