Mr. Moxey

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