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Gold cup, plastic sole What toxic rot and tragedy Bubbles in your factory alone Gold cup, plastic sole I, a lowly chorus Lionising the Ramones But now even little Pan here's getting old Fill my plastic sole Gold cup, plastic sole The olive tree laps the Steppe as winters fingers fold Fill my cup, melt my sole If you could melt my sole A water sprite of desert skin A Cheshire Cat, an open door, a hot northern wind A perfect plum rolling six feet ’pon dusty road Rolling to my plastic sole The goats' bells twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, up thе glen They pirouettе as waters very very slow friend And faintly sing the stones Fill my plastic sole Sing my plastic sole Gold cup, plastic sole The olive tree laps the Steppe as winters fingers fold Fill my cup, melt my sole You could melt my sole From Letras Mania