I rely on (bitter cold)   I depend on (artic snow)   A 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)   A 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 are coming in again   The streets grid alone from the door   You gotta spin the fucking 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 are coming in again   The streets grid alone from the door   You gotta spin the fucking 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 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