I know a man in Milwaukee, who locked his mind
Inside an electronic box he himself had designed
So he could sail among the stars in space
So he could gather information from an alien race
I said: "Is there no comfort in the human face?"
He said: "You just wait, I'll be famous one of these days"
Ahoo, howling at the man in the moon
Ahoo, pandering to the prophets of doom
Merchants of mystery peddling their muck, making a buck
They prey on our longing, prey on our hopes
They don't give a f*ck
I know a girl in the Bronx who won't get out of bed
Till all the cards come up alright
And the leaves have been read
With Venus rising under Saturn's pull
A handsome stranger will appear when the moon is full
I said: "Is there no comfort in the world we make?"
She said: "You just don't understand, for heaven's sake"
Ahoo, howling at the man in the moon
Ahoo, pandering to the prophets of doom
Merchants of mystery peddling their muck, making a buck
They prey on our longing, prey on our hopes
They don't give a f*ck
Washed up hucksters of science selling their soul
To be on Geraldo's show
And our genuine psychics are standing by 24 hours, don't you know
For every question you have, every ache in your heart
There's a number you can call
Dr. Swami's astonishing powers of healing are guaranteed for all
Ahoo, howling at the man in the moon
Ahoo, pandering to the prophets of doom
Merchants of mystery peddling their muck, making a buck
They prey on our longing, prey on our hopes
They don't give a f*ck