Shovelin' in the overhangs
Siftin' off most my days
For a B1 bomber that'll blow your mind
Listen for the sound of glass, huntin' someone else's map
For a B1 bomber from Flint naptime
Then all of a sudden, I'm watching it leave
Off the ground and into Hawkeye's pocket
Squash biscuits and a broke leg stream
Flyin' saucers in my hunting dream
In the center of the shuttle I can hear a banjo break
Happens every now and then
If you're lucky they will let you in
If you show on time and you show up straight
As a walkway is foldin', gettin' ready to leave
Hawkeye waves goodbye and decides to smile
Knee-high to a cricket and younger than me
Covered up in fancy rocks and relics
Wit sharper than a green flint spear
Hits hard enough to fall a deer
Oh dear, I swear I fell it's true
Lips of imperial red, rock of ages in my river bed
I have no earthly jewels for you
Coming home empty handed but I finally see
I'm covered up in fancy rocks and relics