Over The Moon

A little, red moon-man held a map and tapped my window,

and he pointed with his pin-head to the moon, moon, moon.

I never had a rocket, even car keys in my pocket,

but I felt I'd follow him away soon, soon, soon.

He painted me with henna, wrapped me up in his antenna

and minutes later, in a crater, introduced me to his home.

But the moon-men all got nervous when they heard I needed oxygen

and put me in a box again, and sent me back alone.

If rocket fuel should take this fool,

over the moon.

It wont be made of lucky clover,

or, rabbit's foot.

But something stronger, used for fodder

will have to do.

Make an angel, from a stranger

help his wings last.

Should auld acquaintance

be complacent,

in the past?

Drive to the stars, park your car

then, walk on back.

Then walk on back.

Up in the trees

the squirrels run around like a pack of crazy honeybees.

Their walnuts are sweet,

but when things get weird they all grow a bunch of squirrel beards.

I'm just trying to think of something that I thought before, but every time I come around I'm staring at the kitchen floor.

I'm not going anywhere, I'm perfectly content right here,

settled in in my own skin,

breathing in this atmosphere,

and maybe you have expectations of what my next step should be

as if my success depends on leaving this reality

and everything that I am doing isn't the means to an end,

it's the means of creating a meaningful existence,

and I just wanna sing with my friends.

I just wanna sing with my friends.

And I just wanna sing with my friends.

I just wanna sing with my friends.

And I just wanna sing with my friends.

And I just wanna sing with my friends.

And I just wanna sing with my friends.