Finale (Don’t Feed The Plants)

Song Meaning

This song functions as a chilling, almost apocalyptic epilogue, detailing the rapid, widespread growth of a predatory force. The lyrics paint a picture of events mirroring those just witnessed, now occurring across America, where unsuspecting individuals are lured by a "new breed of flytrap." This entity, personified as "Audrey Two," doesn't just consume individuals; it progresses to devouring entire cities like Cleveland and Des Moines, and ultimately, the very theater where the story unfolds. The narrative escalates from a localized threat to a global one, emphasizing the insidious nature of this consumption. The central tension lies in the stark warning: "Don't feed the plants." This refrain is repeated with increasing urgency as the scale of the threat becomes apparent. The plants offer alluring temptations – fortune, fame, love, money, cheap thrills, and luxury – all designed to ensnare their victims. The lyrics highlight the deceptive nature of these offers, contrasting them with the dire consequences of succumbing, which is to be consumed and to enable the plants' unchecked expansion. This creates a powerful conflict between immediate gratification and long-term survival. The most striking craft element is the personification of the plants and their insatiable hunger, culminating in the chilling declaration, "Here I come for you!" This direct threat, echoed by multiple characters, transforms the abstract danger into a tangible, approaching doom. The repetition of "grow and grow" underscores the relentless, exponential nature of the threat, while the specific naming of cities grounds the fantastical horror in a disturbingly plausible reality. The phrase "slopping the trough" adds a visceral, almost farm-like imagery to the act of feeding the monstrous entity, further emphasizing its base, consuming nature. Ultimately, the lyrics' effectiveness stems from their ability to blend a fantastical premise with a universally understood warning about temptation and consequence. The escalating scale, from individual victims to entire cities, amplifies the sense of dread. The repeated, simple command, "Don't feed the plants," becomes a desperate plea against a force that promises everything but delivers annihilation. The final hopeful, yet precarious, assertion, "We'll have tomorrow," hinges entirely on heeding this crucial, life-saving advice.