i still recall the day they took your picture for the press / your crew and you with steely eyes and helmets to your chests / you fixed your gaze upon the world at large and then you said / don't remember us as gods but as hungry humans
i still live in Boca Chica paying double rent / where the whine of every rocket is a widower's lament / i drive the 4 from Brownsville to the old Palmito ranch / and ask the guards who walk along the blast area fence: / "when will it ever be my rocket summer?"
they moved the Earth and ocean at a billionaire's behest / now the ships tear up the sky like peregrins possessed / i always knew i'd lose you, always knew you were obsessed / now i stand in grocery lines and say when I'm addressed:
"when will it ever be my rocket summer?"
Track Name: NGC7293
if you're looking to refuel, there's a spot I know / just a mole on Orion's spiral arm, but we call it home / under dear little atmosphere, on a little pebble with a wisp, we exist / seems impossible / but it's true
caught somewhere between meat and machine / we're a run-on sentience ready for editing / a squeak in the dark, a shrimp to a shark / an old toy radio
if you're looking to observe an absurdity / take a right at NGC7293 / under dear little atmosphere, on a little pebble with a wisp, we exist / seems impossible / but it's true
building / and burning / and building / and burning