Zola Versus the Plastic Hand

Zola wants a plastic hand For she's a plastic girl That's Zola Zola cracks elastic thoughts On the days that she's practically dead Eyes like little stones in the ocean Waves crashing under her skin Wake the head, what's that light? Oh my, good god You know she's right Zola rues her paper crown For she's no paper eyes That's Zola Zola glues electric verse To the back of the professor's head Eyes that look like little explosions Glass breaking under her skin Shake the door, eyes gone white Oh my, good god I see she's right The wiles of their barks are abating Ah, but the incessance will still send you insane The test of the look is frustrating you Oh, the strength of the color has waned The face is down and jaded, while you're stripping the screw Oh, face it kid, Zola's not for you Zola needs a metal bed For she's a metal head That's Zola Zola rats a frantic lore In the weeds of a narrative drag Eyes that look like little explosions Glass breaking under her skin Wake the head, what's that light? Oh my, good god You know she's right I lost a bird who never gonna look me back She walk away Anywhere, any way, that is Zola