Elle Milano My Brother The Astronaut
I searched ‘psychiatry’ and surveyed the facts,
Eighty-three billion dollars say Americans can’t relax
I understand completely but I’d rather not ask,
I'll clear the cobwebs from the corners and dispose of
the vacuum bag…
You’re English, you’ll be fine.
Well Getchoo! Getchoo! Getchoo!
But it’s all downhill from here.
This cabin fever,
The shocks and the shivers,
Intoxicant rivers through binge drinker’s livers
There’s acres of dead space cadets,
They’re gonna need therapy,
With your last breath sigh…
Thanks for the memory,
But, it was getting the way lately
Here’s to the memory,
But if it’s not killing me,
It doesn’t bother me.
Forty yard pass through the graveyard
What I can’t catch is all you get!
Acres of dead space cadets.