First they sent me flowers,
Then they sent me gold,
Then they stole every hour of my life
When they sent me down that hole,

First the ground began shake,
Then the roof fell in,
Then came the unholy silence,
That spewed the darkness from within.

The family sent down flowers,
sent down pictures of our kin,
They ticked every box on their forms,
From this place of filth and sin.

Not even a drop to drink,
Not even a mobile phone,
Down in the stinking city of rock,
Pleading for our homes.

We used to mine for copper,
It’s true they owned our soul,
Now we simply fight for survival,
as three rigs bore the holes.

35 degrees of swelter,
69 days in the dark,
we are well in the shelter,
the 33 Copiapo.

A billion eyes are watching,
As we’re pulled from the ground,
Despite the dust... the blood and fever,
The circus comes to town.

35 degrees of swelter,
69 days in the dark,
we are well in the shelter,
the 33 Copiapo.