1. |
Progress
06:48
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It moves in a zig-zag form,
Defying all the science of the norm.
It grows up from defeat,
A flower in the wretched heat.
It’s fertilized and prized among the swarm.
It’s promised in the shiny distant light,
Teased from the disease of left and right.
A silent beacon in our heart,
That can tear the world apart,
It’s the oscillating curve of day and night.
We like to see a comeback,
So we cast ourselves behind.
A vote against our interests,
A grievance in our mind.
We’re inching up to heaven,
Where the wicked come to play.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.
It copulates in spaces found between,
The knowing glowing faces on our screen.
Its circuit is complete,
With every status, every tweet.
A million tiny deaths in the machine.
It scares the squares beneath their broken sphere,
It engages all the changes that they fear.
They’ve fought it for so long,
But resistance makes it strong.
It helps the blind to see, the deaf to hear.
We like to see a comeback,
So we cast ourselves behind.
A vote against our interests,
A grievance in our mind.
We’re inching up to heaven,
Where the wicked come to play.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.
We like it when we’re heard,
So we raise our voices loud,
In the friendly echo chamber,
Of a complimentary crowd.
We try to fight the impulse,
But protests ricochet.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.
|
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2. |
Progress (Pistols Mix)
04:57
|
|||
|
It moves in a zig-zag form,
Defying all the science of the norm.
It grows up from defeat,
A flower in the wretched heat.
It’s fertilized and prized among the swarm.
It’s promised in the shiny distant light,
Teased from the disease of left and right.
A silent beacon in our heart,
That can tear the world apart,
It’s the oscillating curve of day and night.
We like to see a comeback,
So we cast ourselves behind.
A vote against our interests,
A grievance in our mind.
We’re inching up to heaven,
Where the wicked come to play.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.
It copulates in spaces found between,
The knowing glowing faces on our screen.
Its circuit is complete,
With every status, every tweet.
A million tiny deaths in the machine.
It scares the squares beneath their broken sphere,
It engages all the changes that they fear.
They’ve fought it for so long,
But resistance makes it strong.
It helps the blind to see, the deaf to hear.
We like to see a comeback,
So we cast ourselves behind.
A vote against our interests,
A grievance in our mind.
We’re inching up to heaven,
Where the wicked come to play.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.
We like it when we’re heard,
So we raise our voices loud,
In the friendly echo chamber,
Of a complimentary crowd.
We try to fight the impulse,
But protests ricochet.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.
|
||||
Kiss Is Kill Seattle, Washington
Kiss Is Kill is the solo project of award winning composer/producer James Chapple. Heavy riffs, phat beats, and searing synths dominate Kiss Is Kill's industrial rock sound, with a layer of aggressive vocals to complete the picture. If you like the sound of pure energy, then Kiss Is Kill is for you. Turn it up loud! ... more
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This massive, nearly 200-track compilation of edgy, experimental electronic music benefits those affected by the Ghost Ship fire.
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supported by 5 fans who also own “Progress”
It's hard to say which is my favorite so I'll just put the track that brought me here. Can't get this album out of my head lately
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