Plastic
Terylene
Made of atoms by tender fingers
And determined heads
Of inventors tickling
Perfection
Plastic
I was born aeon's ago
Before anything human was known
My friends the alchemists
Told me everything was natural
And always will be that way
And possible to make gold from dirt
Plastic
Dear plastic be proud
Don't imitate anything
You're pure, pure, pure
Plastic
I believed I was their dustbin for knowledge
Took everything and digested
Of course I became big, bigger and very, very strong
Today I'm old and withering away
My friends the alchemists
Long disappeared into dust
I no longer get anything fruity
No longer gold made from dirt
The only thing I get is space food on a tray
[Foreign Content]
Plastic
Plastic
Plastic
Plastic
Plastic
Plastic
Plastic
Plastic

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS