Spanish Bombs
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
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