Every last thing to ever last is gray:
The clouds above the glen when day is done.
When all things change, these are the things that stay.
The harbor-filling tides along the quay,
The lichen where the rock is overrun,
Every last thing to ever last is gray:
The sheen of rain upon the slate by day,
The dales' dusk sweeping alleys one by one.
When all things change, these are the things that stay.
The mist that veils the scars of slag away,
The ash that fills the hearth whose flame is gone.
Every last thing to ever last is gray:
The sea that bore the nation's load and pay,
The gulls above the shoreland in the sun.
When all things change, these are the things that stay.
The home we made of steel where now we stay
Which we create with light and dark at one.
Every last thing that ever lasts is gray:
When all things change, these are the things that stay.