Her neon mouth with the blinkers-off smile,
nothing but an electric sign.
Secrecy of lady,
chrome covered clothes you wear
'cause you have no other,
but I suppose no-one knows
you're my plastic fantastic lover.
Her rattlin' cough never shuts off,
is nothin' but a used machine.
Cosmetic baby
plugged into me
and never ever, ever find another.
And now I realise,
that no-one's wise to my
plastic fantastic lover.
Solo: E
Data control
and IBM,
science is mankind's brother,
but all I see
is draining me on my
plastic fantastic lover.