Love is nothing more than a stain on a dress
Watching things you sold being purchased for less
Euthanasia that's easy to ingest

And they call this making progress
If you take a billion plus a little finesse
And dreamy Yale boys cashing in on their "success"

Then you take a bath in Uncle Sam's treasure chest
That equals making progress
Meanwhile I am drowning in an ocean of stress

!@%(yzing data for a sure, sure bet
An affordable commodity that I can invest Your love
Your sweet, sweet love I guess

Baby, baby it would be the best
If we got together tonight and regressed
it's not like we'd be de-evolving

And the world wouldn't stop revolving
We could forget the problems no one's solving Surely I jest
And you're not listening anyway

Where we go from here baby is anybody's guess
So repress your insecurities and take off that dress
Cause the day we realize no one can clean up this mess

Will be a fine day for making progress