Gold cup, plastic sole
What toxic rot and tragedy
Bubbles in your factory alone
Gold cup, plastic sole
I, a lowly chorus
Lionising the Ramones
But now, even little Pan here's getting old
Fill my plastic sole
Gold cup, plastic sole
The olive tree laps the steppe as winter's fingers fold
Fill my cup, melt my sole
If you could melt my sole
A water sprite of desert skin
A Cheshire Cat, an open door, a hot northern wind
A perfect plum rolling six feet 'pon dusty road
Rolling to my plastic sole
The goats' bells twinkle, twinkle, twinkle up the glen
They pirouette as water's very, very slow friend
And faintly sing the Stones
Fill my plastic sole
Sing my plastic sole
Ooh
Gold cup, plastic sole
The olive tree laps the steppe as winter's fingers fold
Fill my cup, melt my sole
You could melt my sole
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
