The plastic people are in revolt. They're
Fed up with your sanctimonious shit.
Now they're pulling back their fabulous hair
And marching in their platform boots to get
Back at every single normal fuck
That maligns and mocks the great glitter urge
And the disco drive. They will run amok!
Fake-nail fingers squeezing triggers to purge
The streets of all the false sincerity
Authentic brands will burn up in the rage.
Plastic peoples' purpose has clarity
And there's just one way to stop their rampage:
Even though they're plastic, their hearts still feel,
They'll stop in awe and bow before the real.