Plastic Eyes

The American Scene is behind
All the future seers and their
Lost
Sons and daughters
We ride over the dead cities
Over elephant bones
Over the grass covered sea
And I see the writing on the walls
It tells me of laws
Nobody obeys any longer
They want to be free from definition
They want to be defined
They want to see
They want to be blind
Felt like a matchstick
Waiting to plunder
Burn all the plastic
They put us under
Felt like a matchstick
Waiting for thunder
Burn all their plastic eyes
This war
This war
This war
He said
Raising his eyes
And ringing his hands
This war
This war
Nobody comes here anymore
I am all alone
Phaestos is dead
She is forgotten
And then he took a little flower
And put it in my hand
Why me
Felt like a matchstick
Waiting to plunder
Burn all the plastic
They put us under
Felt like a matchstick
Waiting for thunder
Burn all their plastic eyes



Credits
Writer(s): Carlos Adura, Nick Weaver, Pat Harris, Simon Relf, Steffan Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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