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  • Immediate download of 15-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more), plus unlimited mobile access using the free Bandcamp listening app.

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credits

released 24 March 2014
Running Dog Labor Exchange
Aidan Kelly – guitar and vocals
Liam Powers – bass and vocals
Evan Ecklund – drums and vocals

Additional vocals provided by Jeff Boudon, Shannon Carroll, Uma Palooma, Theresa Prabucki, Nadia Robinson, and Adam Spektor.

Recorded, produced, and mixed by Chris Axelrod at The Horsenest

Mastered by Mike’s Mix & Master – mikesmixmaster.com –MikesMixandMaster@gmail.com

Cover art and sleeve design by Ben Hardin

CD art by Shannon Carroll and Running Dog Labor Exchange.

All words written by Aidan Kelly and music by Running Dog Labor Exchange except where otherwise noted.
• Track 11: Words by Liam Powers and Aidan Kelly, music by RDLE
• Track 12: Evan Ecklund
• Track 15: Words and music by Aidan Kelly

Running Dog Labor Exchange – Progress – © 2014

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Track Name: March on to Progress
Condescending smile as the boss looked at Rosa.
Late again so there’s nothing I can do.
He didn’t care about her daughter’s recent seizures.
Better run, the medical bills are chasing you.

March on, march on to progress.
We’ll have 6 billion martyrs.
Development will save us,
if you only work harder!

Rosa panicked, said she needed the employment.
But the boss man had already walked away.
Empty heart as she emptied out her locker.
The job is gone but the debt is here to stay!

March on, march on to progress.
We’ll have 6 billion martyrs.
Development will save us,
if you only work harder!

Development will save us.
Track Name: Davey and Rosa's Prison
Davey looked on as they build him a prison.
A prison for him and then some of his friends.
Davey looked on as they built him a prison.
Creation of criminals never will end

Even if there is a small chance of innocence,
you are a criminal,
you are profitable.

Even if there is a small chance of innocence,
you are a criminal,
you are profitable.

Even if there is a good chance of innocence,
you are a criminal,
you are profitable.

Even if there is a complete proof of innocence,
you are a criminal,
you are profitable.

Rosa looked on as they built her a prison.
A prison for her and then some of her friends.
Rosa looked on as they built her a prison.
Creation of criminals never will end.
Track Name: Jungle
Need some land!
Need a building!
Need it now!
And we need it cheap!

But not here!
In a poor country!
Where the wages aren’t so steep!

Make a product!
Make a killing!
If we make a mess we’re far away!

It’s all subjective!
It’s all semantics!
What is safety anyway?

It’s a jungle out there the shareholders said.
It’s a jungle out there but it keeps us fed!

Please keep seated!
Please keep silent!
Please keep working!
We’re watching you!

We’ve got the cops!
We’ve got the courts!
We’ll bust the unions!
We’ll bust you too!
Stop complaining!
You’re ungrateful!
I’m not listening!
I don’t care!

You’re a girl!
You’re a child!
But be a man!
Life’s not fair!

The sun rose high above the building.
The people felt it sway and swell.
The bricks rained down.
A sea of concrete.
And despite the screams the building fell.

Go back to work!
God believes in accidents.
Go back to work!
You’ll get over it soon.
Go back to work!
There’s a million other hungry ones.
Go back to work!
We can replace you.
Go back to work!
Heaven’ll be a better place.
Go back to work!
With everything you need
Go back to work!
But here in the mean time.
Go back to work!
You belong to me.
Track Name: Coup d'état
We’re winning the hearts and minds with our rifles.
We making a path to peace with our night raids.
We’re gonna liberate those backwards people.
Don’t care what the journalists will say.
We don’t like the look and cut of their leaders.
Their not so good at taking orders.

Coup d’etat
We’d be honored to help with all the training.
Got a lovely school right here in Georgia.
Some wonderful methods to get them talking.
For the preservation of law and order.
We won’t bother with elections.
About time the real men just took over.

It’s not what you want its what we give you.
Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
What a waste of time this all has been.
You’re playing a game you just can’t win!

O’brien says to think of us as a boot stamping on a human face forever. That might be a little bit too self aware but hey. If we’re dabbling in cliches: if the shoe fits, wear it.
Track Name: Brutality of the Routine
The war is a wagin’ a million miles away
but it’s too hard to focus when the rent is now late.
Maybe some soldiers will flash some guns on the screen.
The news anchor smiles and lets the commercials play.
It’s really quite tragic, I’m a passionate person.
But after 8 hours I’m too tired to think.
Add in a dash of seasonal depression
and all I can manage is all the beer I can drink.

What is left of me?
I’m coming apart at the seems.
Caught in a caustic machine.
The brutality of the routine.

The war is a wagin’ a million miles away
but the cable TV says that no one is safe.
Maybe explosions will flash on the screen.
The news anchors cheer and let the commercials play.
It’s really quite tragic but I’m a “practical person.”
Maybe a strong arm is really all that they need.
I don’t got time to whine or to worry.
I got bills to pay and mouths to feed.

The war is a wagin’ a million miles away
but I’m a cynic and I’ve seen it all.
The Berlin Wall once flashed on screen
Tears of joy as the commercials played.
It’s really quite tragic but I’m burnt out on feelings.
Wars have been wagin’ since I’ve been alive.
Hope was abandoned outside of the strip mall
and quickly forgotten on the two hour bus ride.

Sedate me when I get home.
The voices are loudest when I’m alone.
Got alcohol, a new telephone
to numb the voices.

I’m on cloud 9.
Another few pints.
Half a smile.
I’m on cloud 9.
Till I come down.
Some powerful pills.
Another round.

My courage fails and my face turns pale.
Anxiety. I won’t be leaving the bed today.
The words are fluff. I know they’re not enough
but if you raise a fist the paddy wagon’s a waiting’ you.
An economy of austerity
that is run by wolves with a lust for gambling.
So fall in lines it’s work or prison time.
If you feel nothing at all you’ll be just fine!
Track Name: Workin'
Come in my office and you can see!
One day you can be just like me!
Overworked, underpaid.
Nights and weekends!
A slave to the trade!
So fire up that old PC!
Go and make some money for me!
I don’t care where the money comes from
but I want it in piles the size of a dumptruck.
I want more.

Workin’ 9 to 5.
Workin’ to stay alive.
Workin’ to stay afloat.
They get rich and they work me to the bone!

Time theft is as time theft does.
Watercooler talk?
No, I’ll be the judge.
9 to 5 and then 5 to 9.
Don’t you understand your time is mine?
I’m going crazy everyday the vacation seems so far away.
Vacation?
FIRED!
Track Name: Simple Solution (Part 1)
Student by day.
Picasso by night.
I’d draw pretty things
and I’d keep out of sight.
No curfew could scare me away from my plan.
I found all my courage in an aerosol can.
And in the mornings I sit in cafes
and watch the cops scramble like rats in a maze
Until men came in vans with their buckets of paint
And declared my palm trees enemies of the state.
Soon I learned that I wasn’t alone.
Next to my flowers some others had grown.
I didn’t know you but I loved you no less.
We had a shared purpose in a horrible mess.
Soon I thought that the streets would be ours.
We covered the churches, skyscrapers, and bars.
We felt a power we hadn’t before.
A ferocious revolt and resistance to

the War:

That gave the curfew.
Since the paper’s banned.
On the union members
On the author’s pen.
Militarization.
On the refugees.
On the rights of women.
LGBT.

They called it suicide. But we had no choice.
It made us feel alive. It gave us our own voice.

And in our new found frenzy
people started to get reckless.
They now felt unstoppable,
no matter how wild the protest.
And then the well known artists
vanished into the night air.
No trial or persecution.
They simply disappeared.

They called it suicide. But I had no choice.
It made me feel alive. It gave me my own voice.

All the sirens
and all the newscasts
were a howlin'
for a bloodbath.
I felt a feeling.
That bitter lurching.
Someone's listening.
The camera's smirking
When they finally bagged me
it was a success.
A true victory
in the name of progress.
The end of artists.
And all the terror.
A new dawn rising.
A golden era.
Track Name: Simple Solution (Part 2)
Your father doesn't understand how man can behave like animals.
Bomb Iran, bomb Iran, bomb Iran, bomb Iran.
Bomb anything that ends in Stan.
He's a simple solution man!

Your father doesn't understand how men can behave like perverts.
How can a man fuck a man, fuck a man, fuck a man?
Reeducation camps all across the land.
He's a simple solution man!

ART IS DEAD! ART IS DEAD!
CONTAINED AND SUBDUED
WITH A TRUNCHEON TO ITS HEADS
ART IS DEAD!
Track Name: Victory Speeches
They kept em in darkness they did.
Blind folds on everyone.
The only noises that were heard,
sloppily shouted slogans.
And as they sharpened their knives
to cut victory speeches into flesh
we all watched in awe
and the screams rose like the sun.

I wouldn't call it running away
but the black cat wanted his tea
far from the rifle sights
and slowly faintly falling debris.
How do you start a home
in the middle of a war zone?
Softly following footsteps
to go and meet the dead.