Centralia

What the ground holds will be silent now

And the earth scorched by the molten plough

And the trees bare in the valley and

All the streets clear

In the centralia

What the ground hides makes the breezes sour

And the blooms wilt as the roots devour

We'll be staying for our homes are here

Ever drying

And the streets are clear

Ever drying and the trees are bare

In the valley of the shadow

In the valley

Of centralia