Standing On the edge of forever At the start of whatever Shouting love at the world Back then We were like cavemen But we mapped the moon and the stars
Down, down, let your crazy out Boys go crazy over you Grip like a New York window cleaner Just staring at you Youth don't leave me, hair stay on me God
Oh no, turning into cannibals and everything That she wants is made out of minerals I don't know what I done, she only speaks in subliminals The reception
And progress is not intelligently planned It's the facade of our heritage The odor of our land They speak of progress In red, white and blue It's the
Instrumental
{tec-9} I don't like to dream about gettin' paid No time for slippin' no time to get laid Got to get mine, get it with the tec-9 Nigga's on the come up
Say yes to a real life ambition Say yes to our hopes and our plans Forget about your indecision Let's get the beast off our land A tree that can grow
Life takes root in the deepest, dark ground Where bones, blood and honor have been trampled down And beaten like ponies and driven to town When reason
rain of death falls down. potuted by this so called technology. murdering to succeed. not seeing the price that has been paid. in the name, in the name
We used to walk those golden streets But where's the glitter gone? The times we knew, falling back into blue From this moment on We used to sail such
A bald treeis what I see not cause of fall but poison-clouds Rain drops are falling down from a poisoned sky Apocalypse has begun first the trees will
Look to see where you've been from standing at the start again, Stand up backwards, that's a fact, who's gonna follow your attack, Try to keep what
Antiquated towards achievement blame liaison the souls of the workers would they not feel the burden of woes had the tyrannous not placed it there
dreams of knowledge for something new, while all noises are that of invitation. the vision of achievemnet blinds the vision of morality, science passed
Listen up, sweetie, we all know That you're a beautiful girl in this horrible world In this suggestion of horror, the portraits on the walls Look at their
Progress? That's just regression Technology? That's nothing new "Advance!" you scream insanely "Advance"? From this to what? [Chorus:] And every time
It's just a fraction of time Until we move in reverse Can feel the pressure in all our minds And the whole Universe Is it a question of force? A metaphysical
I get the feeling that we are being lied to There's a surge in my psychosis every turn of the screw And I'm half awake in paisley print I can see the