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    The flower grew the wall
    Displaying all of his colour
    The motive wasn't clear
    But you wouldn't understand

    Now we're getting on like fire
    With matchsticks in our eyes
    And the money men are here
    With yes men to their sides

    The audience approves
    With a movement of clothing
    But they never even see
    The nature of this illusion

    Now we're getting on like fire
    Let's burn it to the ground
    And the warning, it came so clear
    But I couldn't see the signs

    There's a plate in my head
    There's a chip in my head

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