Subject, Citizen - Consumer   Free/Fair Trade - Mass Producer   Now we're so free   To sell these fetters of subtlety      This is Progress   You are Powerless      While our love's as white as snow   And our lust's as black as ash   The Tulips bow their pretty heads   Just waiting for The Crash      The hand that rocks the cradle   The hand that locks the gate   The hand that guides the market   The hand that we create      The is Progress   You are Powerless      While our love's as white as snow   And our lust's as black as ash   The Tulips bow their pretty heads   Just waiting for The Crash      Sitting in our English Country Garden   And we're all just dying, dying inside