They are bending like in the wind
Their comic faces crumble,
Becoming the shadows of theirselves
Every morning they are someone else
They are like plastic dolls
When you pull their arms out, they won't lie
Their life is so plastic,
That they survive the apocalypse
They have own plastic Jesus
Modeling his f**ing world
They're toys full of perverse ideas
They are just plastic dolls
Bending like in the wind
But you can not hurt them
Although they survive every change of the world
They don't have a clear objective
Plastic dolls with a cross on the neck
Creatures fighting against the wind
Plastic toys full of pervert ideas
Poor cancer of this world