9361
My father worked the mines until the day it took his life.
It stole him from his only son and it stole him from his wife.
And I swore upon his grave, someday I would make things right.
So I learned how to bend steel. I learned how to make it move,
and I watched as it withstood all the hell we put men through.
With hands of iron, there's not a task we couldn't do.
They've waited so long for this day,
Someone to take the death away,
No son would ever have to say,
"My father worked into his grave."
The Protomen are farking awesome