Moon Is Disgusting

Look up to the moon,
Whistle up a tune,
Keep it to yourself,
For now, the same old lie.
Everybody knows,
But nobody says,
Right between the devil and the deep blue sky.

The bigger the pond is, the fatter the geese.
The deeper the water, the deeper the freeze.
The sweeter the blood is the fatter the fleas.

The sweeter the blood is the fatter the fleas.
The moon is disgusting, it's made of cheese.
It's a wet cheese, left out in the cold.
The moon is disgusting, or so I've been told.

What you thought you knew,
What you thought was blue,
Reason where we'll stew, the things you heard they did.
Tinker Toys and bowls,
Lincoln Logs and SIVs,
Birds and bricks with lashes, stones and this year's sticks.

We'll get rid of the locks, but we're keeping the keys.
Eat all the bread, then we'll pay all the fees.
Sell off the dogs, then we'll trade all the fleas.
Strong in the elbows but weak in the knees.
Honey tastes sweeter when you anger the bees.

The honey tastes sweeter when you anger the bees.
The moon is disgusting, it's made cheese.
It's a wet cheese, left out in the cold.
The moon is disgusting, or so I've been told.