Lyrics:
The flower grew the wallDisplaying all of his colourThe motive wasn't clearBut you wouldn't understandNow we're getting on like fireWith matchsticks in our eyesAnd the money men are hereWith yes men to their sidesThe audience approvesWith a movement of clothingBut they never even seeThe nature of this illusionNow we're getting on like fireLet's burn it to the groundAnd the warning, it came so clearBut I couldn't see the signsThere's a plate in my headThere's a chip in my head