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Pamela Ann Frances Crane


We are the men who bring the trains...
Tunnelling, tunnelling...
We are the blokes who clear the drains
Tunnelling, tunnelling...
We are the docs who mend your brains...
Tunnelling, tunnelling, tunnelling.

Blasting a way through ancient rock
Blitzing a stinking garbage block
Boring through bone against the clock...
Tunnelling, tunnelling.

We are the guys who drill for oil...
Tunnelling, tunnelling...
We are the brains who search the soil...
Tunnelling, tunnelling...
We are the chaps who heap the spoil
Tunnelling, tunnelling, tunnelling.

Drilling the earth until she screams
Probing the past for secret dreams
Ripping the heart from golden seams...
Tunnelling, tunnelling.

We are the creatures put to flight...
Tunnelling, tunnelling...
We are the ghosts that haunt your night...
Tunnelling, tunnelling...
We are the bugs you fail to fight...
Tunnelling, tunnelling, tunnelling.

Riddled with graves a world will die
Riddled with guilt, the mind awry
Riddled with death, we all know why...
Tunnelling, tunnelling.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 04, 2014
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