We live in plastic rooms
And plastic houses
And plastic towns
And even the sky is a plastic ceiling painted blue
The streets with plastic trees
Are so unreal, they bring you down
And it sounds so plastic when people say "How do you do?"
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
We dress in plastic clothes,
We go in ... but where can we go?
Living in the sky is not living high
We leave the land behind explore the sky but wonder why
Oh some day we will turn to plastic and surely we will die
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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