And progress is not intelligently planned;
It's the facade of our heritage, the odor of our land. They speak of
Progress, in red, white and blue.
It's the [bad word] of the future as [bad word] seething through. It's
Progress, 'til there's nothing left to gain,
As the dearth of new ideas makes us wallow in our shame.
So before you go contribute more
To the [bad word] of this world you adore,
Remember life on Earth is but a flash of dawn
We're all part of it as the day rolls on.
And progress is a message that we send.
One step closer to the future, one inch closer to the end. I say
That progress is a synonym of time.
We are all aware of it but it's nothing we refine,
And progress is a debt we all must pay.
Its convenience we all cherish, its pollution we disdain
And the cutting edge is dulling,
Too many folks to plow through.
Just keep your [bad word] distance
And it can't include you.
It's
Progress, 'til there's nothing left to gain, it's
Progress, it's a message that we send.
And progress is a debt we all must pay.