Plastic Man, with his little white-washed hands,
Is ripping up our heritage
By the roots, and pitching it in the garbage
With all his verbages and his tall promises.
Pretty, pretty please, prove me wrong.
So you go your way; I'll keep my powder dry.
Then we'll go our way, keeping our power high.
Plastic Man...
Plastic Man, with his knee-jerk twitter brain,
Is firing up his vanities -
Wanton-esque - and posing thoughts quite scantily,
Lacking all sanity, with his fake skirmishes.
Pretty, pretty please, prove me wrong.
So you go your way; I'll keep my powder dry.
Then we'll go our way, keeping our power high.
Plastic Man...
Plastic Man, with his callow playboy charm,
Is building lists of enemies -
Quite a few - who once thought they'd been quite friendly,
Burned by dark chemistry and his petty psychoses.
Pretty, pretty please, prove me wrong.
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