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Star-crossed. Monkey tested, freeze-dried cookies tossed. I'm lost. Up chuck. Floating past my helmet glass, I'm stuck. Zero G's and I'm 'a twerking on the thruster I'm 'a working, levelin' off the angle of decent. Günter Wendt, slammed the hatch behind me now I'm heaven-sent. Go fever, pull the lever down about a half a tick. Receiver, catch'in static on the Houston line. CHORUS LEM is sailin' smooth, yeah crusin' fine. Touchdown now about happen, In my suit I'll be a'crappin' real soon. Tell them all the Eagle landed on the moon.
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