When I was 3, my mother said to meEat up your greens and
say your graveWhile on TV they put a dog in spaceAnd left
her there... you should've seen her faceWhen I was 5, the
dream was still aliveAnd Walter Cronkite said: "One day
we'll earn our daily breadConducting things in outer
space"But still on earth I thrive... and you pretend I'm
not alive And walk by with my substitute
While I fasten the oxygen valve on my space suitWhen I
was 8, we shared a cloakrack - it was greatAnd I
pretended I had so much on my plateI had a speech to
write, about moonshot trajectoryAnd during phonics class,
perfected my delivery Now the band's playing "Hail
to the Chief" While my capsule's out floating by
some tropical reefall the experts can agree on, regarding
your motivesin the cape canaveral crash... is that they
know nothing it puzzles me so...Now I'm full
grown, and I've a spacecraft of my ownBut there you sit,
still upon your Earthly throneHey darling, throw this
'space-pup' a boneDon't touch that dial, don't hang up
that phone