Ok, We Confess: It's A Cannon
Ok, we confess: it's a cannon
We made it with popsicle sticks.
I think it'll blast-us-clear
Out of the atmosphere
Soon as we fire up the wick.
There's no guarantee of our safety
And failure would be an embarrassment.
And sure I suppose
If we should explode
We'd suffer beyond all comparisment.
Alas, we are left with a problem:
We're arguing who should go first.
While flying through space
Are grim, but staying here's worse.
BILLY DRAWSDOT (OM