I see cosmic typhoons and tycoons 
wandering under the purple moon 
near the edges of a blue lagoon 
playing their loud double bassoons 

I feel like a lonely loon 
in a Groucho cartoon 
or poor Rocky Raccoon  
from that Beatles’ tune 

fly me to the Full Moon 
in your hot-air balloon 
release me from this war-torn cocoon 
I can be ready anytime soon 
after I’ve finished painting the town maroon
I will pack my silver spoons 
and the world’s last loaded harpoon 
to ward off the platoons  
of leftover lunar goons 

I will be back next June 
with the next political buffoon 
from the dark side’s vacant dunes 
if I survive the cosmic tycoon’s next typhoon