To the moon and back?
Yeah, to the moon and back.
Hop in my arms and we’ll split
to Canaveral, boogie down to the biggest
rocket there is. When you bat your
silky lashes real slow, they’ll whistle us
right into the hatch.
If the fellas on the headsets object,
we’ll show them our ticket
- your lips on my collar -
and they’ll start the countdown.
After that we shimmy on space suits,
buckle up in the same seat, and smooch
while the dashboard bleeps and bloops us into space.
Darling, I hate to tell you this,
I wish it weren’t true,
but it’s gonna take three stinkin’ days
to reach the moon.
Stop smiling! I’m serious, kiddo.
That’s a long time for a guy
like me to sit still.
When we land you’ll need your hat,
and we’ll be walkin’ tipsy
from wine and whiskey.
Come nighttime you can blink
the stars out of your eyes,
and blow them back to where they belong.