The Postindustrial Landscape

The Postindustrial Landscape

The robots have drained all the oceans and seas
All that is left of creation is the cool breeze,
The blue water is now a grayish-brown land
Concrete has replaced all the sand,
No more trees of green and gold
Just metal buildings, all gray and cold,
No more blue sky upon which to gaze
Just overcast smog, which puts your head in a daze.

Well, is not progress so sweet?
Generations have not seen grass under their feet;
Well, progress is the way of the man
There is no trying to stop him
Affluent-insanity rules his clan;

So, to go forward we have gone a little back
But the robots don’t know any different
All they know is gray and black, gray and black;
Progress, it is so sweet
No more grass under our feet,
Progress, it is such a dream
We are all slaves to the machine,
Progress, it is ideal
It doesn’t matter how you feel.