Baby, I can't wait to go.
Out, out, brief candle's glow.
Candle made a light in Shakespeare's time
But it doesn't make much in mine.
Let me go out through the door of dreams,
I'd rather go on my own way
Than gasping for a breath on the jam packed streets
Or in a mess on the highway.
Let me go out while the grass still grows
And the birds still pass on the fly-way,
It's burning my air with fly to the moon
And packing the cars on the highway.
I've had the best and the worst,
I've met the enemy standing,
Now I'm tired, so tired and it's time to go
And make my own moon landing.