Button Masher

Mash the buttons, knock, knock, never yield
 Phobias in motion blowing smoke into the sterile field
 Wonkavator up beyond the seraphim, terra beneath the keratin
 Every bit precariously jerry-rigged
 His helmet is a case of Bud, he factor in the paper cuts
 Corrugated cockpit, I'm not exactly Major Tom
 Buzzed Aldrin, I can't count backwards
 Ten, one, someone get this buzzard to the Matmos
 Ten thousand hours addressing open beaks
 Exiting the atmosphere with no green to chroma key
 Greebles on the body, tin cans on the bumper
 Slip into the freezing ether like a pea coat from his mother
 How much interstellar freedom can he reasonably suffer?
 More than you can feed through a shutter
 I use a phony voice when I'm yelling, "Nobody's home"
 I'm a liar, but I wouldn't say I'm wrong
 I ain't really seen land in a minute
 AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs.
 Faint transmission after nothing for the summer
 I have never seen so many colours
 Uh, ayy
 The human heart tattoo move in a hard vacuum
 Only back to pay a bill or maybe fill a cart with cat food
 I'm shredded
 Smelling like I just stepped off a charred capsule, I did
 That's not imaginary ash in his wig
 That's rounding Cygnus with a souvenir from galaxy quest
 I know it sound like myth and magic, but the shrapnel commits
 I give a fuck about a factory scent, we mostly play to the fringe
 They figure, "What's a little tape on the wings?
 A little glue, a little paint, a little staple and string
 You won't believe how far the garbage when that radio ping
 Behold a view or two where you could lose your voice at the moon
 I hope you like your beef and veggies with the moisture removed
 Dig it, the low rider, lower the gold visor
 Nosedive guided by the ghost of Laika, my heavens
 Slow drive, side-eye stealthy
 When can we expect you?
 Why would you expect me?
 I ain't really seen land in a minute
 AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs.
 Faint transmission after nothing for the summer
 I have never seen so many colours
 ♪
 Tangentially related in the sense of one's environment
 Informing what they're made of
 There was a ghost who broke it all up into tiny numbers
 And dated vector graphics and New York Times puzzles
 Who struggled knowing love as more than boring data entry
 More reported from an orbit all his own, to say it gently
 I'm reporting from an orbit all my own, to say it gently
 Catch a wave in the jalopy down to burn up on re-entry
 Man the laser, do you copy? Keep invaders on the business end
 Autopilot zeroes in on zero wind for pissing in
 Fixer-upper, she putt like a Plymouth Duster
 From bucket to mothership, if you're up for a little sunburn, stat
 Neighbors at the mercy of a thin wall
 One side nap, one satellite pinball
 Fun size asteroids pingin' off the cabin
 Ping, ping, the soundtrack of shrinking into blackness
 I blink through 4D, droid sitting, bitch scorned
 The voice of destroy and rebuild
 Who rose above the partly cloudy counting on a Galaga hack
 His only carry-on's a napkin of math
 From packed in a menagerie to cheese and crackers at the apogee
 Add a little finding God and trying not to atrophy, um
 I know you're whispering about me at the corner store
 "We've seen the glowing light from under his apartment door"
 I ain't really seen land in a minute
 AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs.
 Faint transmission after nothing for the summer
 I have never seen so many colours