We are so much soft and too elastic,
Somewhere inside us is a wonderful motor.
A battery of cells runs us and we walk,
To entertain the child we can even dance,
A record is played we sing and talk.
Nice, very nice, our life is full of romance.
The child sometimes gently kisses us
In us many nipples the child discovers.
The child sometimes too much presses us,
Our shape is changed but it recovers.
Restless for years the inside playboys,
Thoughtful even during sleeps, dreamed it,
The dream came true we are now the toys
Played and broken, elasticity has a limit,
From where came the raw materials,
So nicely processed in playboys,
Is the immortal playing with the mortals?
It’s a nice experience to be played as toys.
Know, will be broken and thrown the toys,
Dream again, in a reprocessing in factory of fine arts.
We shall be reprocessed in new playboys,
Still having a number of many manufacturing faults,
As long as there is a child in a man who loves to play
Supply of raw material of love continues any way,
In a soft plastic will be modified the hard clay,
For the game there is a moonlit night and a sunny day.