From here in my cage I see them make plans,
Hear them reassure investors, shake presidents' hands.
The men with machines put tubes into me,
They measure my vital signs, my flight trajectory.
They taught me to sit, taught me to lie down.
Told me that a thousand years of wondering would end now.
They fed me my last meal, was the same as my first.
From here in my cage, I watch the men work.
And now it's a flurry of lab coats and hurry.
They talk about budgets and taxpayers' money.
And I wag my tail and I be a good girl,
They forgot to walk me this morning they were too busy changing the world.
And I'm out from my cage and I'm trying to be brave,
But the men they are sweating and now they're injecting,
And as I awake
I'm shocked and amazed.
At the sheer, crushing empty.
And I look down on men's little earth, sitting there quietly, wondering what it's worth.
And I drift away, but that's okay, there's more room to play out here than back in my cage.
And I know I will die, but that is fine,
Cause in some way I am helping mankind.
And I don't understand, cause I'm not as smart as them,
But even a parachute would have shown that they cared.
And so I float on, space's only dog.
Friend to the stars, pet of the sun.
From my little ship I dream of my bone,
A walk in the park, something comfy to sleep on.
And they call me Laika but I'd just like to say
That I was born Little Curly and I'll die with that name.