Lyrics:

'Bones beneath the shovel's blade,' that's what the radio said
Years ago, a payoff made built a mall on top of the dead
Eighty thousand underground
Eighty thousand; not a sound
Eighty thousand nameless souls; brothers, sisters of us all
A mother in her cotton dress
A little baby taken in distress
A hobo with a kindly face
There was a daughter of a southern slave
Eighty thousand underground
Eighty thousand; not a sound
Eighty thousand nameless souls; brothers, sisters of us all
Bulging wallets, empty hearts
The walking dead push shopping carts
What price human dignity?
Betrayed because of poverty
Eighty thousand underground
Eighty thousand; not a sound
Eighty thousand nameless souls; brothers, sisters of us all
Eighty thousand underground
Eighty thousand; not a sound
Eighty thousand nameless souls; brothers, sisters of us all
Eighty thousand...underground
Eighty thousand...not a sound
Eighty thousand
Eighty thousand
Eighty thousand underground