The peasants have called off the wedding
It seems like it's getting to be
The essence of details upsetting
Of retails indebting the free
Like everything's gotta be exactly as it oughtta be spoken
Trust in the lottery soldered on a subway token
They call this the waste of an era
The taste of a sterilized passion
For all these immaculate sparrows
The scarecrows of rarified fashion
And everything reduced to the concentrated juice of a lemon
With the high fructose corn syrup solutions they are selling
But we can sing, if you want
Until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it's a front or just some immaculate farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane
When they run past you a few forms to fill out
Your victories all will now be pyrrhic
Give us one last kiss before you sell out
We'll miss you when you spell out generic
'Cause all we ever wanted was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat
A little taste of honesty pressed into a vinyl worthy of framing
But tell us something we don't know
The face of a photo of dreams
Embellish, enchant it in totems
In granite, or sowed in the seams
And maybe some day when the four-tank parade comes assailing
We'll turn the other way and we'll find ourselves amazed
By the one man left standing in the street
But we can sing if you want
Until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it's a front or just some immaculate farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane
And bling bling bling until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it's a front or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plane
And bling bling bling until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it's a front or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plane
Rob Getzschman - Make It Plane Lyrics
Rob Getzschman - Make It Plane Lyrics
Official
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
The peasants have called off the wedding
It seems like it's getting to be
The essence of details upsetting
Of retails indebting the free
Like everything's gotta be exactly as it oughtta be spoken
Trust in the lottery soldered on a subway token
They call this the waste of an era
The taste of a sterilized passion
For all these immaculate sparrows
The scarecrows of rarified fashion
And everything reduced to the concentrated juice of a lemon
With the high fructose corn syrup solutions they are selling
But we can sing, if you want
Until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it's a front or just some immaculate farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane
When they run past you a few forms to fill out
Your victories all will now be pyrrhic
Give us one last kiss before you sell out
We'll miss you when you spell out generic
'Cause all we ever wanted was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat
A little taste of honesty pressed into a vinyl worthy of framing
But tell us something we don't know
The face of a photo of dreams
Embellish, enchant it in totems
In granite, or sowed in the seams
And maybe some day when the four-tank parade comes assailing
We'll turn the other way and we'll find ourselves amazed
By the one man left standing in the street
But we can sing if you want
Until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it's a front or just some immaculate farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane
And bling bling bling until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it's a front or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plane
And bling bling bling until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it's a front or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plane
It seems like it's getting to be
The essence of details upsetting
Of retails indebting the free
Like everything's gotta be exactly as it oughtta be spoken
Trust in the lottery soldered on a subway token
They call this the waste of an era
The taste of a sterilized passion
For all these immaculate sparrows
The scarecrows of rarified fashion
And everything reduced to the concentrated juice of a lemon
With the high fructose corn syrup solutions they are selling
But we can sing, if you want
Until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it's a front or just some immaculate farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane
When they run past you a few forms to fill out
Your victories all will now be pyrrhic
Give us one last kiss before you sell out
We'll miss you when you spell out generic
'Cause all we ever wanted was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat
A little taste of honesty pressed into a vinyl worthy of framing
But tell us something we don't know
The face of a photo of dreams
Embellish, enchant it in totems
In granite, or sowed in the seams
And maybe some day when the four-tank parade comes assailing
We'll turn the other way and we'll find ourselves amazed
By the one man left standing in the street
But we can sing if you want
Until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it's a front or just some immaculate farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane
And bling bling bling until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it's a front or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plane
And bling bling bling until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it's a front or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plane
Writer: Robert Getzschman
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid