Horse ‘n’ buggy to gas-electric hybrids in under a hundred years
Pony express to email and cellular phones held to your ears
Melting candles to halogen, orchestras to Limp Bizkit and Kid Rock
But our clothes are still cotton, and Wall Street still sells stock
Opium to crystal meth, and cookstoves to microwaves
Dinner parties and ballrooms replaced by nightclubs and late night raves
Leatherbound volumes of books are all digitally stored
But we still drink, smoke tobacco and we’re really bored
The more things change, the more we hide from ourselves
In this technical age, some believe in fairies and elves
Every year, the calendar keeps rolling
And I guess God went out bowling
They say progress is good, and nobody likes to change
And we’ve given up on the home, home on the range
Look back at how you dressed twenty years ago
But hide all the yellowed pictures, so no one will know
Every year, the calendar keeps rolling
And I guess God went out bowling