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Plastic Flowers
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Monsieur Dupont, he was an ordinary fellow, Equally bad and good, Got sick of women, so he got into porno, And gave to charities, cause he knew he should. Never gave up on striving for the rainbow, Mindless happiness with a healthy lawn, Trembling with joy at the thought of a new TV, Under a regime of robots in authority. Plastic Flowers, Laying on his grave, From the company he gave thirty two years to, Plastic flowers, Melting in the sun, A memento to the glorious things he's done. He had a car and a home on the Northside, Respectable neighbourhood, And all his struggling to obtain riches, Laying dead it doesn't do him much good. What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, And yet to lose his soul, What does it profit a man to love little, And not be loved at all. Plastic Flowers, Laying on his grave, From the company he gave thirty two years to, Plastic flowers, Melting in the sun, A memento to the glorious things


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