We're nothing more than a scores rocket man,
Trips to the moon on the side of a can.
Sprinkle of ash from the back of a hand,
And we fly to space to the sound of a band.
Still both clever enough to split shit like the double slit,
Quantum flux waves and particles made from a billion bits.
Had Einstein's minds but the brains of a twit,
And wonky legs from too many hits.
We still checked the box for Schrödinger's cat,
Dead or alive, but still matters a fact.
He probably starved should have thrown him a rat,
But then he's only moving if you hadn't checked that.
I said I'm gonna sort it out, and I gave God a shout,
Long waited 30 years but never heard nought.
It's been a long time and I've survived many droughts
Still Wuhan crazy to wear gloves n mask to go out.
My eyes got double blots and my minds gone blank,
My tongues tied up in a chat that wasn't to Frank.
Got the sniffles and a cough from the rising damp,
I'll still send you a card from space if I can afford the stamps.
But still nothing more than a yellow rock star ship man
Flying to the moon as fast as our wallets say we can.
Rocket fuels cheap fluffed baking powder stale like spam,
And electronic wiring that's as old as your gran.
One day our rocket ships going to stop giving NASA's radar a blip.
The CIA's gonna make sure our boosters explode to a million bits.
Paranoia's top mad but plenty of time floating to think a bit,
Before our oxygen runs out and we all choke for shit.
It was an important mission, I was sure we could land,
Pretty sure Armstrong's lodge helped out with the plan.
Shame Kubrick wasn't around to put the film in the can,
But we still did our best on Area 51's banned desert sand.
So did I wish I had changed jobs and become a man in a suit,
A door to door salesman with a briefcase full of scams to boot.
College wasn't hard so we always had time to toot,
And every boss I had was a thief so I chose a life harder to loot.
© 2020 Robert Reid – All Rights Reserved
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