He was born down there, down where
Sound is bare-knuckled and kids are shared, bundled in
Bulk, wondering if they'll be rescued by incredible
Hulks, nope. Their folks got friends in high places

Jets to impress or just, fly away from
This, where kids shy away from fists, and
Sit dead quiet as if, their life depended on it
Stage fright, the requisite for staying alive

To be free from forced feeding, while
Funds are funneled to bleed him, just to keep him barely
Breathing, they need him to keep his life secret
Cause if he escapes, what will the people think?

Imagine their relief when nobody says ni, and the
Knights of Templar can keep their name discreet, to
Remain in sync with darkness, one can't see, while
seeds seek light no matter how much you try to muffle

TUNNELS x12

Above ground, it's all about the love, but
Further down, it's all about the blood
Got the right kind, good luck, stay up, good for
You, you're coveted, nothing less than what they want

Got the wrong kind, the mimes all look down
Mad frowns, crocodile tears from these sad clowns
Some of them want to abuse you and your ass now
Some want to be abused by you until they pass out

Those who use the abused have been abused and
Choose to abuse, like pass it on, go and spread your news
It's a lose-lose fantasy he happened into
He misspelled "love-love" by accidental

No insurance, he fell for pro-assurances of
Food and shelter in exchange of his services
Inappropriate in any churches outside this
Church, but their lust for his blood makes it worth the struggle

TUNNELS x12

Dumb DUMBs by the same ones who go numb for underage
Bums, no saving these cunts, they're going down under
And not Australia brother, these Transylvanian blood
Suckers forfeited their souls a long time ago

There isn't much time to go before their cover's blown
They thrive as long as their real lives are unknown
Their blood lines are old as the history they sold
When Moses first watched them worship gold

The premise is, they get a glimpse
Of Satan or some kind of demon when they make a wish
Sacrifice, like when these heathens kill a kid
Inca or Aztec-like - like they never left (they still exist)

And never will, unless we pull the wool
Off of our eyes like a caul to reveal the fool
Follow the yellow brick roled, their shul, the
Path of the righteous man will always cross Zool

TUNNELS