Ging gang gooli, moonlit jeepers,
Tiny Tones pop like bubblegum sneakers;
count to three, the sky goes lime,
we ride on bass to jellybean time.
Whistle-twirl, secret clubhouse beat,
candyfloss clouds beneath our feet;
hey-oh, hey-oh, echo the stars,
we’re scribbling Saturn on candy-bar guitars.
Ging gang gooli, never go home—
just loop the joy in our pocket-size dome.