I rely on (bitter cold)
I depend on (artic snow)
pair of trainers (I've got mine)
Could make a God of the two of us (I want yours)

I exist on (apropos)
I insist on (arctic snow)
change of clothing (will fill the void)
Could lift us into fidelity (will suck you in)

The sound keeps you hemmed to the past
The walls [bad word] in again
The streets grid alone from the door
You gotta spin the [bad word] treadle...

I rely on (bitter cold)
I depend on (arctic snow)
The manmade fibres (I've got mine)
That are the stuff of my birthright (I want yours)

I decide on (apropos)
I retreat from (arctic snow)
The dregs of discourse (will fill the void)
For a new world order (will suck you in)

The sound keeps you hemmed to the past
The walls [bad word] in again
The streets grid alone from the door
You gotta spin the [bad word] treadle...
In a pile of days between no oceans
All the kids are rioting
There's no art in a broken head
All the kids are staying fat

And I'm air-kissing, back-slapping
Check the body for valuables
It's called [bad word] on pilgrim sing to the pyres
It's called progress
If they want to kill themselves
Then buy them the gowns
It's called progress