Let us take a waltz around the rings of Saturn,
without making a sound as our feet follow the pattern.
Let us sway and forever spin
every day in the solar wind.
Baby don't ever wake up from these fondest dreams
where we needn't make up, for everything is as it seems.
Let us never return to the dead-pet freezers and the bleeding,
haven't we yet earned our right to be together without pleading?
Baby there's a cafe on the moon
and we better get there soon
because I'm dying here on Earth
and a trip to Jupiter isn't what we're worth.
Because that place is a heap,
and the coffee there is the worst.
Oh, Arlo.