Shot out through the stratosphere, on a mission, we're assigned
To entertain the colonists and brighten their lives
A reminder of terra firma, oh so far away
Songs from home to end a twenty-five-hour day
We're the first bar band on Mars
We can't wait to touch down
And play both kinds of music
'Til Halley's Comet makes its rounds
We've got a rocket-powered bus
Caked in red dirt and dust
You can't miss us when we come to town
Two guitars, one banjo, strapped in ready for the launch
One fiddle and a bass (It's not gonna fit up on top!)
We're tightening the hardware on our space-age alloy drums
Red planet, here we come
We're the first bar band on Mars
We'll take your requests
For "Mr. Spaceman"
And "Panama Red"
They may sound better
Back where you're from
But from here to Pluto, we play 'em best
One hundred and forty million miles out past the Moon
Starting the Lower Milky Way honky tonk boom
Everyone says we're too cool for the cover of Rolling Stone
But we'd be even cooler without this clear plastic dome
We're the first bar band on Mars
We'll play for you all day
In the thin evening air
And the red morning haze
We'll be here until they tell us
To turn off our amps
Saddle up and blast off into space