[Verse 1: Ed Scissor]
Take it to the stars man, never settle shorter than the temperatures of Mars can
Seven deadly sentences a universe away from forty nights and forty days
It shackles manacles and chains that grapple every single thought gland
Take it to the stars man, jump aboard my wing span
Strapped inside a cockpit with a monkey and orangutan
Have you read your contract?
Sub section seven point seven point zero's where the mother fucking bomb's strapped
Fuck it where my wand at?
I need to spin a deathly tune to power up these batteries projectiles at a battered moon
A temptress in the quicksand, celebrated stuntman
Every shape invented getting pummelled into plum jam
Blueprints of the sum sang
In harmony were hoovers in your mum's hands
In harmony were supersonic gun claps
In harmony were screwing on the brackets to your honorary dunce hat

[Verse 2: Jam Baxter]
In clouds are my consumables are reassembled slightly lost
Slightly scrunched their tickets to the stars up and sidled off
To join the giant violent mob marauding into missing scenes
To fuck with the finale slipping scandal in your histories
And off camera spies injecting intravenous tryptamines
Prise apart the jaws, pull the gristle out and drink your dreams
Lucid lunar movements crescent cackles crack the silent evening
I'm blind and bleeding on the pavement, was the last man to try and blind the cyclops
And wake a five thousand dire bison on his night off
Cotched off camera, with a lost dog stature
You're flabbergasted god's got cancer
And he's gone, the starry eyed harlot hit the floor and saw the knots in all the raw bits as they sparkled insecure
So I watched her constellations dance to swan song samba
As my clan cotched off camera with the star struck youts cheating, rive out the noose screaming "Hi how's your crew feeling?"
Like sour prunes steaming flavoursome assault on every fungal face embarking rage
And disappear with a parting wave
[Hook: Jam Baxter & Ed Scissor]
Take it to the stars yeah I'll take 'em straight back again
Ditch the hit to spring the pictures back and smash your camera lens
Burst bugs splattered on the windscreen pounding like

Take 'em to the stars man, take 'em to the other place
Someone in the crew is trading gods with a forgotten race
Burst lungs splattering the docking bay pounding like

[Verse 3: Ed Scissor]
Yeah, please join us in a round of applause for all the graduates about to fill the rapturous force
Of forty metric tonnes of pressure as they're leaving our shores
But don't forget to bow your head, mop the laboratory floor
Clock the rock if you're raw, a rapid eye strapped inside, rocked to the core
A massive mindgasm blinds ocular scores are light patterns time travels five planets or more
Tribes gather for war
Who's down for the cause?
Mission control I think we've ripped a massive vista in the blackest of holes
And now the monkeys firing flare guns at the orbiting globes
Outside the windscreen at his cracking leaking spirits and ghosts
Sunk my teeth in his throat, watched it gargle 'til the flares had stopped secreting out red smog, the sweetest of smoke
Spat the remnants out my mouth and felt the seasons implode
Then inter-species anesthesia, there's these creaks in my bones

[Verse 4: Jam Baxter]
I chewed the last ration, bulbous eyes, survey decaying star patterns
Join the dots to form a middle finger spewing sparks at 'em
Pard' madam, please release my ankles from your razor teeth
I cruised out of space with two skulls to replace my feet
If weakish well the master cripple[?]
Out looking for a prime spot to park the missile
Nervous laughter rippled outward into living rooms and prison cells and abattoirs
Just before the sky cracked and filled the air with shattered glass
Stars burn and burn, sweating children gurn and gurn
With plastic planets spinning round the really twisted learning curve
I heard the worms are cooking up a gastronomic astral feast
Have a piece, I'll cram it in your face with extra axle grease
[Hook: Jam Baxter & Ed Scissor]
Take it to the stars, Yeah I'll take 'em straight back again
Ditch the hit to spring the pictures back and smash your camera lens
Burst bugs splattered on the windscreen pounding like

Take 'em to the stars man, take 'em to the other place
Someone in the crew is trading gods with a forgotten race
Burst lungs splattering the docking bay pounding like