| We live in plastic rooms and plastic houses and plastic towns
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| And even the sky is a plastic ceiling painted blue
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| The streets with plastic trees are so unreal, they bring you down
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| And it sounds so plastic when people say «How do you do?»
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| Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
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| And birds can be seen, that’s paradise
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| Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
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| And where the rivers flow, that’s nice
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| We dress in plastic clothes, we go in … but where can we go?
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| Living in the sky is not living high
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| We leave the land behind … wonder why
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| Oh some day we will turn to plastic and surely we will die
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| Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
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| And birds can be seen, that’s paradise
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| Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
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| And where the rivers flow, that’s nice
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| Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
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| And birds can be seen, that’s paradise
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| Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
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| And where the rivers flow, that’s nice
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| Yeaah |