Peter Hollens - Underground

Take a look 'round lively old London
Buzzing crowds we sweat and we revel
Red-cheeked shouts and songs
In the flicker of the gaslight

Eager Blighty bursts from the cobblestones
Racing, climbing, blooming fertility
Born from secret seeds
That were scattered in the nighttime

London is fed upon the meat of the dead
They're one shallow inch below the town

Underground
Underground
Leave them underground

Them that whispered dreams that only poisoned us
Them that told us lies of their bravery
Them that preached of progress, and put us in the poorhouse

Them done horrid murder on bloody stages
Them that loudly crowed their humility
Lords and dames that sung in the chapels on a Sunday

All quiet now
Their mouths are stopped up by mud
They lie flung in rags and make no sound

Underground
Underground
Leave them underground

Those who fought for something better
Those who taught by how they lived
Loved ones taken long before their work was done

Underground
Underground
Leave them underground

Underground
Underground
Leave them underground

Underground
Underground
Leave them underground

Underground
Underground
Leave them underground