And plastic houses
And plastic towns
And even the sky is a plastic ceiling painted blue"
E encerramos nossa "tríade plástica" com esta canção da banda belga Wallace Collection. As outas duas "canções plásticas" foram Alles Plastik, do disco de Carlos Careqa e Fake Plastic Trees, do RadioHead. Lembrando que em La Belle Verte, comportamentos e objetos artificias ("plásticos") são a todo instante apresentados ao telespectador, daí a nossa obsessão com o tema. São a comida (a carne com hormônio), o ar (poluído e fétido), a água (que não corre mais em rios, e que tem um gosto estranho); a segurança do médico (no fundo, nunca soube fazer um parto), a amor de sua mulher ("prostituição legal"), o batom (para as pessoas serem "mais amadas").
Fly Me To The Earth
(Wallace Colection)
We live in plastic rooms
And plastic houses
And plastic towns
And even the sky is a plastic ceiling painted blue
The streets with plastic trees
Are so unreal, they bring you down
And it sounds so plastic when people say "How do you do?"
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
We dress in plastic clothes,
We go in ... but where can we go?
Living in the sky is not living high
We leave the land behind explore the sky but wonder why
Oh some day we will turn to plastic and surely we will die
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
And plastic houses
And plastic towns
And even the sky is a plastic ceiling painted blue
The streets with plastic trees
Are so unreal, they bring you down
And it sounds so plastic when people say "How do you do?"
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
We dress in plastic clothes,
We go in ... but where can we go?
Living in the sky is not living high
We leave the land behind explore the sky but wonder why
Oh some day we will turn to plastic and surely we will die
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
Fly me to the earth where the grass is green
And birds can be seen, that's paradise
Fly me to the earth where the flowers grow
And where the rivers flow, that's nice
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