I've been on the ground, feet slowly draggin'
|
I've been on a bender for weeks but it feels like I'm on the wagon
|
|
You're out of range, high in the atmosphere
|
Cell phone's all but blown and it sounds like you gotta gotta get outta there
|
|
Houston, there's trouble here
|
I'm out of reach, out of love, and I'm mostly out of you
|
And just as I say the word impossible,
|
They tell me space monkeys landed on the moon
|
|
Not keeping track but the phone rang two days ago
|
My face is a map and the tears indicate I've got a ways to go
|
|
Houston, there's trouble here
|
I'm out of reach, out of love, and I'm mostly out of you
|
And just as I say the word unbearable,
|
They tell me space monkeys landed on the moon
|
|
"Are you happy or sad ... or just pms-ing?"
|
I know what he wants in his nonchalance ... I know it's pressing.
|
|
Houston, I'm asking you...
|
To give a shout out to all the peeps in the posse, yo
|
O.K., for real: Could you relay a message fast
|
To the astronaut who wanted to know?
|
|
Yes, I do, I do believe in the sun
|
And I do, I do concede there is one
|
And you ... do you believe in the one
|
Do you, do you do you believe...?
|
|
-----------------
|
Space Monkey
|
| Anya Marina |
