| Like the toupee on a fading fame
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| The final whistle in a losing game
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| Thick lipstick on a five year old girl
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| It makes you think that it’s a plastic world
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| A plastic world and we’re all plastic too
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| Just a couple of different faces in a dead man’s queue
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| The world is turning Disney and there’s nothing you can do
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| You’re trying to walk like giants but you’re wearing Pluto’s shoes
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| And the answers fall easier from the barrel of a gun
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| Than it does from the lips of the beautiful and the dumb
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| The world won’t end in darkness, it’ll end in family fun
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| With Coca Cola clouds behind a Big Mac sun
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| A howling scream in a church asleep
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| And rusty bicycle in an ocean deep
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| Like an ear-ring on the newly born
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| Strong perfume on a winter’s morn
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| The world is perfumed and we’re perfumed as well
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| Petals from a flower that blossomed in hell
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| And you can’t breathe the air through the thickness of the smell
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| And you can’t see the hair through the grease of the gel
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| You say there’s only one God, you could do with two or three
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| Your Jesus Christ is hired out, like the slag of Galilee
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| Well, if Peter is a prostitute, then what does that make me
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| There’s only one God, there should be two or three
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| One God, there should be two or three
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| One God, there should be two or three
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| Two or three |