Frank Turner
Your Problem
Progress, progress
Which kind of begs the question
From what? To where?

Lord spare me from idiots
Wrapped snug in their "radical politics"
Their ideals smelling so sweet
Still kept in the box that they bought them in
Stored safe and sound underneath the bed at their mum's house

Lord spare me from charlatan cheats
Who went down to the old cowboy store
And bought out all of the white hats
Like that's some kind of fucking argument winner

Progress, progress
Which kind of leaves a question
From what? To where?
Back to the playground

Your problem is you're all cunts
And while you put up an impressive front
Of understanding the ways of the world
And maybe even having slept with a girl

Yeah the truth is I can see right through
Because I used to think just like you
Back when I was an adolescent
But since then I've learnt a couple of lessons
That your intentions are beside the point
It's the outcome of your actions that count
If your intentions are pure when you fuck me
I'll still get the STDs

Lord spare me from idiots wrapped
Snug in their "radical politics"
All their ideals smelling so sweet
Still kept in the boxes they bought them in

All animals are equal but some are pigs
All animals are equal but some are pigs, dumb as pigs
All animals are equal but some are pigs
All animals are equal but some are pigs, dumb as pigs
All animals are equal but some are pigs
All animals are equal but some are pigs, dumb as fucking pigs