All the birds are singing tra-la-la As the treetops turn to gold Still we linger playing baccarat Wondering why we don't get old We just stare at the rainbow scene What could all of this beauty mean? Suddenly we're all sweet sixteen Smash the beauty machine As the stars come out ad nauseam Everyone stands and applauds Suddenly we're all remembering Why we needed all those gods Was the world always this beautiful? Could we all have been so blind? Does the beauty come from your machine Or the world Or just the mind?