When everything is financed and nothing is bought From your fashion to your furniture and pretty soon your caught up In some sort of web Of finance and fear And your personal identity Goes only as deep as your pockets are near.
When the person you are Depends on your power To buy that sleek car And one-up the neighbor How foolish we are To think that we could trade This priceless identity For a name stamped on a card.
And Im tired of plastic things Taking the place of gold rings When the world moves at light speed And I cant keep up with the plasticity of being.
In this culture of plastic That we assume is best From the music that we listen to To those things on your chest What are we hiding Trying to conceal But the pain and the passion And the beauty of the real in its coffin now
And Im tired of plastic things Filling the cracks in broken dreams And the world is busting out at the seems The world was so brave until it gave into plasticity
And Im tired of plastic things Making us less than human beings As I write this eulogy And I cant keep up with the plasticity of being.