While we wait at the gates

For the funeral in the sky

They say he was great

His modern inventions worked to benefit humankind

But what if the moon turned its

Familiar face on us

Would we wait to die?

Or would we make a time machine

And get in?

“What was his name?”

“Mr. Moxey” said a universal cry

Humbled in fame

What a shame

He was shot between the eyes

Now the moons turning round

Doomsday clock is counting down

Theres not much left to say

But soon we’ll be on our way

Mr Moxey