Her green plastic watering can
For her fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth.
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself.
It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out.
I don’t wanna be your friend
I just wanna be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts
The haunting strains of Fake Plastic Trees always brings me to another plane of glorious suffering and melancholy. Not completely healthy if you dwell among the barren, withered trees in the mist for long; but now and then, when you need to be by yourself and think, this is a great soundtrack to accompany the trip.
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