Beach House On The Moon

Cameron's getting logical,
a Vulcan in disguise.
The mysteries of the night
are putting sparkles in his eyes.
He's looking for sound reasoning
but the best that I can do
is this transcendental story
that I'll pass along to you.
Past the falls they call Victoria,
down the river named the Nile,
drifts a tiny little handmade boat.
It's shaped just like a smile,
and steered by a magician
with the knowledge that he needs
to keep him on his destined course,
past the crocodiles and reeds.
(Chorus)
He's the admiral of the ocean,
the lone eagle in the sky.
He gave me my first sextant
and he taught me how to fly.
It's been quite a lengthy passage
from the dawn of time till now.
He has weathered the infernal storms
in his trusty petite dhow.
He has soared above colossal waves,
sailed the endless sea.
Sometimes he resembles you,
Sometimes he looks like me.
I saw him through my telescope
on a cloudless night in June,
as he rested between voyages
at his beach house on the moon.
There are windows to the galaxies
and hallways to the past.
There are trapdoors to the future
and a splintered, ancient mast.
There are relics from Apollo trips,
when the Earthmen came to play,
and a hammock from a distant star,
out in the Milky Way.
(Chorus)
I saw him through my telescope
on a cloudless night in June,
as he rested between voyages
at his beach house on the moon.
A striped bass breaks the surface,
as the sunset fades away,
and our journey from the sea of storms
takes us home beside the bay.
We go fishing in the ocean,
we go traveling back in time,
like the song says, "teach your children
to go fishing with their mind."
Cameron's contemplating.
I'm not sure just what he thinks.
"Is my dad some kind of lunatic
with his stories and hijinks?"
Then he says when I get old and gray
and feel like I'm marooned,
he will take me in his rocketship
to that beach house on the moon.