Progress March

I’m at the beginning sweating
In the grip of the lion’s jaw
I’m rolling my small town over
I’m watching these buildings fall
Once, twice and it’s dead
Pull the trigger, make the bed
They carried the body down Broadway
Held high above their heads
Old men sweat and pray
At peace or just at the end
So are we the torturer’s horse
Pulling in duty or confusion
«But we got it straight from the source»
«Well first it went through the blood and the venom»
And that poison ran its course
When we thought the world was small
In my city
Not every church a steeple
But every man
A cross to bear
«Well first it went through the blood and the venom»
And that poison ran its course
When we thought the world was small
In my city
Not every church a steeple
But every man
A cross to bear