Baby, bug your father
He pretends that he can't bother
We're both here playing with power
In this last eleventh hour
Show him our Moon/Pluto contacts
Remind him of all our contracts
Bring me there onto his lap
Rest his head upon back
Put his hand up to my heart
And our love into his art
Tell him that I am his home
That he needn't walk alone
That I too do want to roam
Help this man pick up his phone
