[Short Chorus] What we think is real Is plastic, fantastic, dramatically elastic Wearing masks that we call faces Trading spaces, leaving traces Of who we used to be [Intro - Spoken/Sung softly] Nothing here is what it seems Towers are just painted dreams [Verse 1 - Male] Connections form and strengthen or weaken and break Memories and goals can be searingly real or comfortably fake Your shape and being constantly morph and mutate As you decide to keep or discard the treasures in your estate [Verse 1 - Female] Your many toys strewn about are cheap and weak The permeating ambient music is bland and meek The columns and arches with metallic luster are not iron They gradually discolor, bend, and distend as you learn [Pre-Chorus - Both] Everything I thought was permanent Is just plastic in the sun Melting, warping, reshaping Into what I'll become [Chorus - Both] We're all plastic, bendable, breakable Moldable, fakeable, constantly changeable Nothing's made of stone or steel Even what we think is real They are plastic, fantastic, dramatically elastic Wearing masks that we call faces Trading spaces, leaving traces Of who we used to be [Verse 2 - Female] For better or worse, life is experienced one frame at a time [Verse 2 - Male] For joy or pain, surprises appear without rhythm or rhyme [Bridge - Both] Embrace your inner butterfly that conjures and thrives in storms Savor the unexpected consequences of karma's infinite forms The chaos isn't the enemy, it's the teacher in disguise Every breaking, every bending, makes us beautifully wise [Verse 3 - Male] Find gray stoicism in missed opportunities beyond repair [Verse 3 - Female] And don the plastic mask of joy over the countenance of despair [Verse 3 - Both] We smile when we're breaking Laugh when we're aching Performance or truth? Does it matter which is which? When everything's synthetic The authentic becomes aesthetic [Final Chorus - Both] We're all plastic, flexible, terrible, beautiful Artificial, superficial, but somehow still meaningful The iron was an illusion The gold was just delusion But plastic, elastic, iconoclastic We can bend but never shatter Form and reform, it doesn't matter We're whatever we need to be
