The sky is full of hardware, it's shot up ev'ry day,
As trocats and Astrodogs are flying ev'ry which way;
Now there's astro telephones and other astro junk,
So Nellie Jones can telephone her cousin in Podunk.
Computer minded brass hats are running here and yon,
They've blown up the Pacific and now they want the moon.
They've muckied up the atmosphere till you can't breathe the air
And now they're knocking holes in the super-stratosphere.
Leave my Van Allen Belt alone, leave my Van Allen Belt alone;
You're messing up the lovely world that is man's natural home,
You're putting radiation into ev'ry tree and stone,
Go see if you can find your way back to the Pentagon
And leave my Van Allen Belt alone.
They say that this Van Allen Belt is quite a noble span;
Been holding back the cosmic rays since time itself began;
A belt of gleaming superforce around the world in space
And that's a structure even Doctor Teller can't replace.
The military tinkers want to shoot it full of holes
Though they have no idea what that will do to human souls.
Astronomers cry "Stop it!" geneticists cry "Wait"
But when we hear the countdown it's going to be too late.
Those military fellows have invaded every zone
There's not a corner of our lives that we can call our own.
They've set their stamp on Congress till it doesn't dare to blat
And every college president has gold braid on his hat.
The newspapers and radio obey those sharp commands,
The military elbows in on distant foreign lands
They're shooting hunks of U.S. steel to many a far off star
But now with my Van Allen Belt they've really gone too far.