The flat is chrome and peeling... and the lightning starts to strike. A world of space-born oddities... and the star-man that you like. Four scumbags on a star-ship... shouting "Peace" and throwing Smash, While the savior of the universe... arrives with quite a flash. It’s loud... it’s proud... it’s a glitter-covered dream, Where the potato’s mashed by Martians... through a silver, metal seam. Oh, step within the power-chord... and find your golden crown, Where the gravity is heavy... and the stars are crashing down. The Pink Elephants are headbanging... to the glam-rock and the tea, The magic lives in metal... for the Citizens to see. Whistle for the riot... whistle for the "High," In the galactic theatre... beneath a Ziggy sky. The masters sat in hazy light... with glitter on their face, Painting visions of a hero... from a distant, ancient race. Was it lightning? Was it makeup? Or the thunder of the drums? That made a pair of "bastards"... such truly vital bums. The silent hound is focused now... with clockwork, iron hand, While we are drifting slowly through... a chrome and shiny land. Oh, step within the power-chord... and find your golden crown, Where the gravity is heavy... and the stars are crashing down. The Pink Elephants are headbanging... to the glam-rock and the tea, The magic lives in metal... for the Citizens to see. Whistle for the riot... whistle for the "High," In the galactic theatre... beneath a Ziggy sky. The stars are smelling scorched and torn... and the ceiling’s falling in. The Martian's bowl is empty now... with a wide and toothy grin. We’ve learned the lesson well, my friends... through power-chords and wit, That the world is only "shiny"... when you’re in the thick of it. So keep your heavy boots on... and keep your senses near, There’s nothing in the glitter now... for my friend to fear. Whistle... Whistle... -Everything is shiny..! Perfectly... Goodnight. Goodnight, Mashy!
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