Dan Bull - Neil Armstrong lyrics
Daniel “Dan” Bull
[Dan Bull - Neil Armstrong lyrics]
I'm Neil Armstrong i've got my garms on
Far-reaching as if each arms long
Planet Earth man, it's dead in this place
I look down on every race when I'm in space
VIP invitation so you can't come along
It's just me, Buzz and that other one
We get in Apollo 11 and head to the heavens
In terms of transport
It's an irregular method
And telecoms are expensive
We haven't got a landline
That's one giant phone bill for man kind
Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
I said, who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
To all you faker haters:
I'd like to take away the doubts you've got
Until you drop them
Like the hottest bake potato
Screw the rumors
That the moon is made of cheese
Or the whole space race campaign
Is make believe claiming there's no way
That we could have planned it
We could be leaving the planet
Without it leaving us stranded
So let me be blunt and candid
You eejit's' are mad
And ain't even speaking my language
You're just mean and pedantic
Claiming that we were pretending
But, I ain't even offended
So face it, space dick:
"The Eagle has landed"
Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
I said, Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
I said, Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
Far-reaching as if each arms long
Planet Earth man, it's dead in this place
I look down on every race when I'm in space
VIP invitation so you can't come along
It's just me, Buzz and that other one
We get in Apollo 11 and head to the heavens
In terms of transport
It's an irregular method
And telecoms are expensive
We haven't got a landline
That's one giant phone bill for man kind
Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
I said, who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
To all you faker haters:
I'd like to take away the doubts you've got
Until you drop them
Like the hottest bake potato
Screw the rumors
That the moon is made of cheese
Or the whole space race campaign
Is make believe claiming there's no way
That we could have planned it
We could be leaving the planet
Without it leaving us stranded
So let me be blunt and candid
You eejit's' are mad
And ain't even speaking my language
You're just mean and pedantic
Claiming that we were pretending
But, I ain't even offended
So face it, space dick:
"The Eagle has landed"
Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
I said, Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon
I said, Who produces the bangin'est tunes?
It's Neil Armstrong the man in the moon