it’s 1942 but i’m stuck in ‘03

arguing at the Smithsonian ‘bout my legacy

they ask to see the plane, “and where are the witnesses?” 

when my hands are empty, i tell them to mind their business 

you didn’t watch is all 

they predicted fog so i never called and said to come

why won’t you trust me on this one?  

i close my eyes, my dreams bring back the sun 

if i can’t get this right, i’ll just aim higher

you’ll never know Gagarin 

you ask who the hell i think i am 

and when the fog rolled in 

i decided to call it off 

all my best schemes never hit the ground running 

but they’re in my head, is that not something? 

catch me at Kitty Hawk 

picture, picturing

as those around me reach new heights 

i close my eyes, my dreams they bring the sun