Verse 1
Built this town on pulp and pine, sweat and steam and paper lines.
My dad punched in, his Dad too, whistle blew like it always knew.
Chorus
Shut the gates, and leave it all behind.
We stood there staring down that chain,
Empty hands in a cold rain.
The smoke don’t rise, but I still see—
The mill in my dreams, callin’ me.
We were more than the work we did,
But it built this whole damn town,
and raised our kiii - dzah !
Verse 2
Six a.m., the line was dead, no more paychecks, and no more bread.
Folks packed up or simply drank a lot, some just jumped right off the dock.
Chorus
Shut the gates, and leave it all behind.
We stood there staring down that chain,
Empty hands in a cold rain.
The smoke don’t rise, but I still see—
The mill in my dreams, callin’ me.
We were more than the work we did,
But it built this whole damn town,
and raised our kiii - dzah !
Verse 3
400 people out of work, all because of some corporate jerk
A community ground into pulp, people moved or lost all hope.
Chorus
Shut the gates, and leave it all behind.
We stood there staring down that chain,
Empty hands in a cold rain.
The smoke don’t rise, but I still see—
The mill in my dreams, callin’ me.
We were more than the work we did,
But it built this whole damn town, built this whole damn town, built this whole
damn town . . .
and helped raise all our kiii - dzah !
