Metropolis

Lyrics

At one time this metropolis Was a beacon of glass towers Reaching high into the clear blue sky Now here, she lays down sad A pile of pancakes, and all her proud glass windows Have been thrown out as melted blobs of glass Flying off, long into the land And the three proceeded down the melted track-way Up ahead were tiny hills in small mountains of mashed-potato-lumped glass and steel Twisted forests of upturned iron, and rivers upon rivers of black burnt plastic From the low and soft blanket sky, the falling ash was almost blue in its blackness, and the approaching fields werе but thick sheets of smooth, smooth, smooth melted glass The firе had been so incredible, that absolutely everything had been consumed All the labors of civilization, labored, and labored, and loved, and labored, were now simple slime and smelt, drippy drippy fung under those nice brown pillows, floating clouds low and brave Steel beams were now just long, silent drips into shame Porous pus and cup-cups just as gone as the old blue tears on the gentle tin man's face Avenues and boulevards moving under themselves, transformed into fields Of soft giant tooth fillings, everywhere like dried phlegm, snot, snot, snot on the end of your finger, falling into the palm This is it, this is what's left of the metropolis Here is the legacy left of smart-pants industrialists and laboring muscle-bound, steel-bending iron men who made the cities, planning, and hammering, and sewing, and singing, dollars exchanged and checks written, slop, slop, slop, now, slop, slop, slop on your face, wiggle a pair of big tits on a cowboy stage, big tits with nipples of sharkheads that squirt blood on your nose after biting your big fat tongue right off Here we go, now, smash up the city, melt it into the common mush all in about one-thousandth of a second with a blast of white light and big, big brick oven heat, heat, heat that levels the city like butter So simple to incinerate millions of sleeping people, just burn, burn, burn 'em, burn 'em into little baldy bugs and let the sticks grow up out of the ground and impale the rest of them Hang 'em by their brown and blue assholes, while their posh apartments crumble into cinder-y paper with smoke rising up into the air, rising like tar-covered angels, raped and thrown out of Heaven while the Devil boogie men hold down the poor and pregnant woman with a golden halo, stomping on her belly, she screams, while her husband with the donkey lies dead with his throat cut Flan looks ahead at all this, the crust and the curd festering in melted pools of plastic Colors, and colors, and colors, and colors of rancid oils just twirling in broken jaw slime Everything has indeed been reduced to the common mush, everything reduced, to the bare ingredients side by side, smouldering, like piles of shit, like bubbling piles of shit, bubbling paint and bubbling shit, shit, shit, the common denominator, the common mush, common careless... This was the city now, piles of plastic and glass, mountains and hills of melted glass like sickened candy canes Poisonous sugar, laced with vinegar and nerve gas, Flan felt like vomiting all over himself and the big, big shocking mess he was walking into, this forest of hard goo, this gigantic garden of urine-gasoline varnish, sick, and sick, sick flattened out across the burnt open heart surgery land He was singing a nervous opera, he was watching those bright black and hysterical loud columns of smoke, miles and miles long like a thin black and silent tornado, rising as revolving ropes and traveling along under the low brown clouds as giant worms might, worms of smoke, colliding like spider webs, then stabbing themselves into the low brown clouds, joining them while Flan and Ginger's nostrils remained almost carved out by the sickly sharp stink of burnt plastic and fumes burning their eyes in the awful heavy air They look down to their feet, and they see way under the sheets of clear melted goo They see billions upon billions of black pebbles, piled like pepper, crinkled, the jackhammer-shattered remains of the nice concrete roads and kind generous bridges, bits of steel, bits of rock, iron, quartz, granite and marble Now just little chunks of worthless brick-a-brack-brack-brack-hack-hack, nothing but pebbles and sand, nicely textured and preserved under the melted glass sheets Just the common mush now, the common denominator, the very basic ingredients in this very big, tired, and bleary-eyed tip of the hat mass-mass-mass structure, all broken and confused and shattered Lay down now, lay down you quiet and sad corpse with pale blue face and crying relatives Lie down across the barren land where the earth can now hear that your heart has stopped, no more nice urgent beating, it's just a packet of still muscles filled with festering blood