staying fat

i rely on

i depend on

a pair of trainers

could make a god of the two of us

i exist on

i insist on

a change of clothing

could lift us into fidelity

the sound keeps you hemmed to the past

the walls are coming in again

the streets grid alone from the door

you gotta spin the fucking dread or. i rely on

i depend on

the manmade fibres

that are the stuff of my birthright

i decide on

i retreat from

the dregs of discourse

for a new world order

the sound keeps you hemmed to the past

the walls are coming in again

the streets grid alone from the door

you gotta spin the fucking dread or. 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 progress

come 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

progress