And

pro-

gr-

ess

is

not

in-

te-

lli-

gen-

tly

planned;

It's

the

fa-

cade

of

our

he-

ri-

tage,

the

o-

dor

of

our

land.

They

speak

of

Pro-

gress,

in

red,

white

and

blue.

It's

the

stru-

cture

of

the

fu-

ture

as

de-

mise

comes

see-

thing

through.

It's

Pro-

gress,

'til

there's

no-

thing

left

to

gain,

As

the

dearth

of

new

i-

de-

as

makes

us

wall-

ow

in

our

shame.

So

be-

fore

you

go

con-

tri-

bute

mo-

re

To

the

de-

struc-

tion

of

this

world

you

a-

dore,

Re-

mem-

ber

life

on

Earth

is

but

a

flash

of

dawn

We're

all

part

of

it

as

the

day

rolls

on.

And

pro-

gress

is

a

mes-

sage

that

we

send.

One

step

clo-

ser

to

the

fu-

ture,

one

inch

clo-

ser

to

the

end.

I

say

Pro-

gress

is

a

sy-

no-

nym

of

time.

We

are

all

a-

ware

of

it

but

it's

no-

thing

we

re-

fine,

And

pro-

gress

is

a

debt

we

all

must

pay.

Its

con-

venie-

nce

we

all

che-

rish,

its

po-

llu-

tion

we

dis-

dain

And

the

cu-

tting

edge

is

du-

lling,

Too

ma-

ny

peo-

ple

to

plow

through.

Just

keep

your

fu-

cking

dis-

tance

And

it

can't

in-

clude

you.

It's

Pro-

gress,

'til

there's

no-

thing

left

to

gain,

it's

Pro-

gress,

it's

a

me-

ssage

that

we

send.

And

pro-

gress

is

a

debt

we

all

must

pay.