My world is made from plastic It's clean cool and elastic And my guitar's highly rated 'Cause it's polyfluorethylated What now?
Try to break it break it break it Try to burn it burn it burn it Confuse it abuse it or lose it It still comes back you can't refuse it What now?
All the flowers bloom but then away they always wither Today they're smelling sweet but tomorrow they'll smel bitter But plastic flowers smell the same at every passing moment People walking by they just shrug and they may comment What now?