Say goodbye to the morning light,
Got my Jaffas and my flask of tea.
Sucking death with every breath
Trying to feed my family.
No sanctuary for this yellow canary
Stuck in a black iron cage...
I'm blind as a mole in this bottomless hole...
I'm digging my own grave.

I take a deep breath and take one last, long look at the rising suns. I have not stood in the suns' warm glow in so long now, I can hardly remember what it feels like anymore. Taking one more breath of the cool, clean air, I carefully swing myself onto the ladder and climb down. I do not pause on the first landing, nor do I on any of them until I reach the bottom. I allow myself one last look up...the daylight is so far away that I can barely see it. Shouldering my pick I walk resolutely into the tunnel.

I'm going down...underground,
Down underground.
Down...underground,
Down...down...down...

I pass two or three men on my way to the center of the level. They do not look at me—they continue walking forward. Their faces and clothing are streaked with dirt and fine glaze powder. I arrive at the center of the level and the man in charge greets me then. I cannot remember his name, though he looks familiar. I can feel the weight of the earth pressing down on me as I walk where he tells me. I raise my pick and slam it into the stone.

They say, "walk away, and you'll get better pay,"
I don't know what I should do...
Cross the line, like some friends of mine?
Well, they were hungry too...
Those union joes in their spotless clothes
Don't mean nothing to me...
I'm sick and tired of stoking the fires
For them and their company.

As I work, my arms soon fall into the familiar and hated pattern. Lift and slam. Lift and slam...My mind wanders off, and I think of my wife. My darling wife Krishana. My son. My daughter. My son is always in the mine when I am home, and my daughter is asleep. I can never speak to my wife, except before I leave. There is no time. There is no energy left in my body.

I do not know how long I have been down here...it could have been nearly ten or eleven marrs...or merely one. There is no way to tell time down here. We only know to leave when the next shift of Milago come down. I sometimes wonder what would happen if they never come down. Would we stay down here forever?

I think of the Bedoowan, sitting up in their castle...surrounded by the glaze that we mined, that we died for, that they take from us. My anger gives me new strength. I slam the pick into the rock as hard as I can, and dislodge a large sphere of glaze.

I'm going down...underground...
Down underground.
Down...underground,
Down...down...down...

Someone is tapping me on the shoulder. My shift is over. Pulling the partially filled mining cart along behind me, I leave the tunnel and enter the large central cavern. I leave the mining cart with the man in charge—a different man, this time—and leave.

When that siren sounds,
And the sun goes down,
I finally get to wash my face.
Those wheels don't stop,
They spin 'round the clock...
They send my son down to take my place...

As I get to the ladders to climb out of the mines, I see someone I rarely see. My son, Yendak. He is too young to be working in the mines, but he must. He stares at me with a look full of pride, but I can see the fear in his eyes. He walks past me with a nod. I touch his arm as he walks by, and then we continue. He goes into the mine with his pick. I leave mine at the base of the stairs, and climb up towards the twilight.

He's going down...underground...
Down underground...
Down...underground...
Down...down...down...

Yeah...down...underground...
Down underground...
Down...underground...
Down...down...down...

Yeah, I'm going down...underground...
Down underground...
Yeah, I'm going down...underground...
Down...down...down...

As you may or may not know, that song is Down Underground by Gaelic Storm. I was listening to it while I was in the car this afternoon and it popped into my head that it would make a good song fic. It is in the POV (if you haven't noticed) of a random Milago man.

Please read and review or e-mail me. Thanks bunches,
Julia