| The soldiers are playing with corpses
|
| to the marching drum
|
| Fly low silver bombers
|
| under the heat from our troubled sun
|
| The men with machines and the filth parade
|
| get wise to your sanity
|
| Yeah, yeah you can’t faze me
|
| I’m living outside, I’m free
|
| Yeah, yeah you can’t faze me
|
| I’m living outside, I’m free
|
| Plastic man, you’re the devil
|
| Satan is your son
|
| Axis of evol
|
| we won’t smoke that shit you’re on
|
| Mary can’t save you
|
| and Jesus won’t take your hand
|
| To your land of salvation
|
| from the fires of hell
|
| So bad news for you, baby
|
| we’re through with your war-time plans
|
| Newsmen and orderlies
|
| have cleansed you of their hands
|
| I wish I could save you
|
| 'cause God-damn, I’m a peace-loving man
|
| Plastic man, you’re the devil
|
| You just couldn’t understand
|
| Yeah, plastic man, you’re the devil
|
| You just couldn’t understand
|
| The soldiers are playing with corpses
|
| to the marching drum
|
| Fly low silver bombers
|
| under the heat from our troubled sun
|
| The men with machines and the filth parade
|
| get wise to your sanity
|
| Yeah, yeah you can’t faze me
|
| I’m living outside, I’m free
|
| Yeah, yeah you can’t faze me
|
| I’m living outside, I’m free |