The Milky Way's massive: billions of stars, Each one as large as or larger than ours.
If hot air balloons represented the sun, You'd be a bug or a bacterium.
I haven't got time to be talking to you, I cannot be doing the things that you do, See it from my point; you probably can By viewing the world as a Copernican.
Now old Mr Hubble compounded the trouble, By finding more matter outside our own bubble.
Billions of galaxies make us all quiver; The Sun is an atom if they are a river.
That's not withstanding that space is expanding And parallel worlds are what theory's demanding.
You are a ripple upon a vast sea,
And ripples, quite frankly, just don't interest me.
But oh! It's perhaps oversold
What I never was told
Is that space is quite cold.
No! You can't dance with a planet
Even if you could plan it
You can't serenade granite.
You can't cuddle a quasar
Make love to a maser
If you tried, it would phase yer.
(instrumental)
So cosmological things are all fine,
But it's far more important that I make you mine.
And though it's quite daring, if chances arise I'll likely be staring at stars in your eyes.
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