Magazine - The Worst of Progress… lyrics

I was out probing the weaknesses in society When I finally got all of my fat little fingers burned And worst of all, and warts and all, None of it was worth whatever I learned I was intent upon my progress Howling life was hanging on the telephone Why are the colours on the map always running? If it's really the truth, well, it isn't your own Reach for the beautiful day Reach for the far-off shore For one day you'll reach no more I get absolutely no pleasure from singing this song And hell, hell hath no fury when you laugh Please don't interrupt me with dumb readings From your cosmic origins spectrograph Listen now I have a prediction You won't be looking long into the gloom And it won't be going on forever And we won't be going to the moon But up we go... Reach for the beautiful day Reach for the far-off shore For one day you'll reach no more