Progress Progress (Part 1: American Pie, Part 2: the Future is Here)

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove a block to that shop with the liquor inside
Singin' 'Gin and Juice'
Drinkin' whiskey and rye
Thinkin' this'll be the day that I

The night the music died
There were flashes of massive plane and stock crashes
Flower baskets and caskets
A.I.G. and B.I.G. and c-i-g-arette ashes
From that burned down Baptist Church
Where little black fists never got raised
In the light of today's practice, supposed post-blackness
The night the music died, we burned all the classics
On to one last disc of bright blue plastic
Johnny Cash hits and a rapper slash actress
More powerful than two Cleopatras
The night the music died, all so tragic
Then something else happened and we all got distracted
Something so dramatic for however long it lasted
We were saddened then ecstatic, saying Michael
Then imagine, then

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Miseducated by these terrible lies
Age 27, with a wink in her eye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die

She cried, "I'm bored"
Said, "Yeah you're starting to bore us"
Never gone this long without a chorus
The night the music died we expected a performance
We waited, the parade never came around our corners
The coroners report was a song by a foreigner
A man who learned the slang before he ever crossed the border
He learned all he knew from off a four track recorder
"Don't mourn her," he said
"Life should be four minutes or shorter," he sang

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Took a cab to the lab but it didn't arrive
Shotgun blast, both hands to the sky
Singin' this'll be the day that I

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
One time at Band Camp, drove this Trans Am, she could fly
Traded her for a foreign car, kept in storage, parked
'Til the tires got deflated, no air, like Jordin Sparks
Stripped and sold for her parts like porn stars
To keep shades worn in the dark, like Corey Hart
What she got under the hood?
Let's take a look-see
What's goin' on in the hood? What's good, B?
Well what seems good ain't always good
Even what's really good ain't all that it could be
I find the game too bush league
They rhymes is lame
My mind's the same as Usain's foot speed
And that pushed me off the beaten trail
Like a runaway slave on some underground VIA Rail
'Cause we still feel them beats but I don't mean Pharrell
I mean we still feel them beats, we were beaten well
I mean look how we still scared to be ourselves
Can't speak out and I don't mean that we need a cell
And by cell I don't mean a jail, I mean Hell
We locked up and these banks keep receiving bail
I don't mean to speak this real but like, damn
I don't mean to sound depressed but I am
The night the music died it slept with a fan
Put her breasts in his hands and said
"Never sing for less than a grand"
Bam

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove a block to that shop with the liquor inside
Singin' 'Gin and Juice'
Drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, nope, guess the levee broke
This'll be the day that I die, guess you never know
Droppin' acid rain from the sky in a deadly dose
The night the music died they played something beautiful
To drown out the rain and the refrain from the funeral
Look, Wayne's in the studio and the Saints win the Super Bowl
But it's a different crowd this time around in that Superdome
Storm's brewin', I can feel something's not right
Writin' Old Prince lyrics, something 'bout pop life
Everybody needs a thrill, some entertainment
Some Richard Pryor, Usher Raymond
No blamin' all the products of the products
Made of pop cans and Pop-Tarts and pop charts and all stars
And doll parts and stock cars and Walmarts with shop carts
And ballparks with playoffs
And day jobs with layoffs between faded soft
And the night the music died nobody investigated it
Just another one of us layin' on the Vegas Strip
They close the casket and the case up quick
Guess they figured it was gang related and never gave a sh-

Bye, bye Miss American Pie

If we've got good elections, oh ho
And we keep our confessions, oh ho
And we got good connections, oh ho
And we got good corrections, oh ho

America don't need Jesus
The future is here
America don't need Jesus
The future is here

If we've got all the weapons, oh ho
Aimed in all directions, oh ho
And we've got good professions, oh ho
And we've got good erections, oh ho

America don't need Jesus
The future is here
America don't need Jesus
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here
The future is here