under the ground, we're under operation
without a sound we dig up our own graves
under the town there lies an underground
a darken door aligned with walls of white

under the hounds there is a basement in the ground
under the bounds there be the monster eating paste
only the crown will decide those who will stay
and the people live in fear of their own selves

under the water will nothing stand there for free
under the sand it is the same but very oily
under our town there is a leak that's gone abound
and a spoiled garden feeding death without a sound

all around us is a creeping possibility
that all we've considered is nothing but the bees
under the ground and over the average man's head
when it gets a pounding by the heavy sees of the operation
a mystic vision, a central station

under our feet we sleep while taking in lies
underneath the streets we blanket our own sides
fighting for a cause thought up where the devil abides

under our noses they brought through our skin
we must take back our own sins again

under the order we sleep though awake
under the news, tv, and radio they are to blame

under the grease under the grime
a historic pain engulfs us just in time

under the sights, over the line
we are under operation
who will be kind and make
an emancipation