Yeah, I guess
I am the type
to make a big deal
about the moon.

Not about the giant-step
minutes from blastoff
ball of wonder joint.
minutes from blastoff
ball of wonder joint.

Bite me and I'll bite your
graveyard light
in the far corner
of the flat screen.

The passionate
kiss-in-the-fog,
clammy hand romance
at Bogart Airport view.
Clammy hand romance
at Bogart Airport view.

I'm not even the type
to swoon,
because it's the metaphor
with the biggest bat.

So what if, once a month
the moon gets folks
to throw away their pens
or cash in their chips.
Big deal!
to throw away their pens
or cash in their chips.
Big deal!

Nah
I just like to look up
and see
How after all
that's been said, done,

Our guy's still up there(yeah I'm up here)
hangin'