In a rust-belt land where smokestacks rise,
Factories echo their haunting cries.
Water towers loom ‘neath skies so gray,
A landscape desolate, hopes in disarray.
The heavy air bears the weight of despair,
Dreams shattered, hopes fading in the air.
Once bustling with life, now filled with gloom,
A rusted tapestry, a tragic doom.
Oh, rustic urban landscape, a melancholy sight,
Where progress crumbled, swallowed by night.
In this fading realm, a mournful song,
A reminder of what once belonged.
With smokestacks weeping, factories in decline,
A landscape abandoned, lost in time.
Water towers stand, but who do they save?
A faded glory, a forgotten grave.
