Beautiful people, bruised land
Out in Big Ugly,
Arch Coal cut the mountain top
Flat as a pancake.
Now, whenever you drive by
Bruised land dominates the scene.
They stole our mountains
Then pulled the plug on miners,
Profit their motive.
Now, how will they win their bread —
Those workers they left behind?
There is not one side
To this constant narrative.
The people of Big Ugly
Still want to feel beautiful.
These people are mine.
We are cut from the same cloth —
All of us human.
They may strip our mountain tops
But can never strip our hearts.