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