Puff Up The Volume (2012)

by Talibam!

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about

No explanation necessary. Initially released as a CD/LP by C.H. (UK) in 2012. Contact talibambam@gmail.com to get a CD/LP.

credits

released April 5, 2016

Synthesizer, Vocals – Matt Mottel
Drums, Vocals - Kevin Shea
Initial Recordings by Etienne Foyer at Instants Chavirés.
Additional recordings by Talibam! at Spermerang Studios and 14 Wall Street.
Final Recordings, Mixing and Mastering By Colin Marston at The Thousand Caves.

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all rights reserved

about

Talibam! New York, New York

Dadaist provocateurs with an innate love for the history of music. Talibam! is Matt Mottel and Kevin Shea.

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Track Name: Zombie From Albuquerque
There’s a rumor up in the air that a big legend has no hair
He’s runnin around without his wig like a sad little Porky Pig
He got no style, he got no goat, he’s a sad masquerader like a fairy coat
He’s the Zombie From Albuquerque
Stepping through the corny suits, he got a vision of where to schnooze
But not an operator on his game, he’ll always wind up getting played
He got no style, he got no vogue, its kind of uncomfortable like your granny’s pantyhose
He’s the Zombie From Albuquerque
He pumps it hard on his daily data squad, ribbons and piss bliss like a missile dik
But there’s no explosion, he’s got a Mr Floppy, and I feel sorry he’s missing Aphrodite
Call me “Magulkin,” I’m a beetle to buzz. Squeeze yer nipples hard, lactate spicy pork buns
He’s the Zombie From Albuquerque
His sun is setting in his plastic shoes of the breakdown of the self turns one into Looney Tunes
But there’s no plateau or nice view, the moon is laughing while he’s clueless of his blues
Don’t look now, he’s humping a cow, its a milky-cream party, gonna spray it on your crown
Zombie From Albuquerque
Ten soldiers and Egypt's runnin, I hear the drumbeat coming
Cairo’s out, on our own, 4 dead and a gyro
Butter on my hands, sugar on my lips, gonna suck you hard like a popsicle stick
A million zombies rushing through the door, my drumbeats scared ‘em, each beat a bloody gore
Yoda can’t keep my drums from saving Princess Leah, Kryptonite can’t foil my drums -- Lex Luther: yo, see ya!
Wriggle my universe, pop the twerp, the Carvin is cool, I’m not a jerk
Aloha from Spain, a Love Boat insane, don’t call me Coltrane, I’ve got a sketchy name
Its 1812 in my pants tonight, dust off my horse and hold daddy tight
Cradle my cannonballs, give 'em some love, Abe Lincoln's nose puffed up like a dove
Not a flashy dancer, I drink salty acid, quality romancer, I’ve eaten in a mansion
Hide the contraband boiling point, it’ll explode -- what a snowy joint
Its Year One and I'm looking badass, my brick house rocks but it ain’t gonna last
I found my camel on my wife in a barn, she was spinning his junk like a pink ball of yarn
Running from the law, I eat coleslaw. I go bald, disguise the fall
Tourniquet bled all the way down, gotta get sewed up by Dr. Greyhound
How many buttons will it take to call you, when will your peaches be ripe in a tutu?
Don't you know I'm waiting for your twat? Bust your monkey, let's see what you got
Commune walls force me down, living in sin: gotta keep me wound
Visitor navigation: wrong way round -- lost in space, jump on my mound
Butter on my hands, sugar on my lips, gonna suck you hard like a popsicle stick
Track Name: All Of Your $
I’m walking in the middle of the afternoon, strolling and chilling and damn that’s a sweet groove
A perfect day to spot some bloom -- Oh, ¡Si Señor!, you want to zoom on my tube?
I want all of your money, take off your panties and give it to me
When your panties go pop pop, your jammies go bam bam
I wanna make it steamy on Encyclopædia Britann-I-can
I got a bunch of money and a stupid private jet
Its time to roll with me cause its the only chance you’ll get
Your body goes wham wham on Oslo’s Majorstuen tram
You smoked my ham and diced the Christmas gravy on my Spam
Its an Olympic jump down to the valley to my underpants
You’re fuzzy and you’re cuddly like a turtle in a Velcro van
When my jimmie goes tug tug on your prumperumpe rubbie-dub
SOS to yer flesh-sub, time to perpetrate my trouble chub
Its like this: you got my homey’s numbers saved into your smartphone
Your iPod’s like my nuts and it won’t take long to reach your bone
Give a wiggle to my Android, a tickle to my space rocket
"Ground control: there’s trouble with the rim-job on my sport jock"
Don’t weepy weepy weepy weepy weepy on my ding-dong
Unless you hate the disadvantaged puppy tattoo on my schlong
I want all of your money, take off your panties and give it to me
Hollywood/Bollywood: someone somewhere shake my wood
I’m a Munchkin in the West dropping loads in my neighborhood
I'm a cartoon, a comic-book, a graphic novel Superman
Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme what the White House bans
I hope its sweet and messy like a newborn baby turtledove
Wrapped up like a fish taco in San Francisco's Mission hub
I want wet ones, and dry ones, bumpy ones, fat
The triple cherry on your Vegas slot-machine is where its at
At Rockefeller Center, or Heaven, or France: it doesn't make a difference where, just let me reach into your pants
I'm hungry, I'm stuffed, I'm satisfied, I'm bored
The application in my slacks will soon become your Lord
There's a signal coming from my Millennium Falcon
Keep your baby-powder to the side, put away your talcum
Its natural, its fake, its wetter than a Great Lake
Call Minnesota/Chicago: there's a tornado looming, for Heaven's sake
I want all of your money, take off your panties and give it to me
I’m an Upper West Side Manimal, its a trap I broke your clavicle, Its didactic concrete radical, swarm me like coagulates, out-leash the imaginable, assault my Hannibal, burn my candle, score a parable, I’m old-time master rambler, the vintage Deion Sanders, the corpse of Burnt Scrabblers, Old Navy bought my masters.
I want all of your money, take off your panties and give it to me
Track Name: Step Into The Marina
Ecological disaster, corporate catastrophe
One after another -- why you killing me?
Do you want me dead dead dead, or should I cry cry cry?
Time to sink further, I don't want to fry
Step into the marina, take a cruise on a boat
I’ll be breezing past the octopi who be wearing dirty coats
I’m deep in the jungle and I’m sweeping off the flies
I'm a witness to the logging and all the corporate lies
The snakes and the monkeys are running for their lives
Species going extinct right before my eyes
I'm grasping onto history but the times are running out
I come across a dead boar with blood on its snout
The Indians are struggling to preserve their land
But nothing can stop the Sunburned Hand of the Man
But now the sea’s polluted, it’s really bothering me
Where will our worries wash red cancer all on me?
On the broken shore, dirty wishes in a bottle
Sunken deep, the garbage broke my throttle
Cultural genocide like WWII
No one gives a shit, not whitey or the Jews
There ain’t no friggin time to care about the Guggenheim
Wake up! The Earth can’t spare another dime
The sounds of the jungle are being ripped apart
Tractors and the saws: it breaks my heart
Well nature is sacred, I wanna give her some respect
But the system’s so corrupt I don’t know who I should elect
Step into the marina, take a cruise on a boat
I’ll be breezing past the octopi who be wearing dirty coats
Track Name: Tapping That Ass
I wanna blow blow blow on all the nipples on the block
“Wah! Wah! Wah!” say the kids that can talk
This party’s too tripping, I can’t afford to waste a drop
I got a tenner, a five, a combination to the bra lock
They got red ones, green ones, and purple nipples rock
Fraggle Rock, punk rock, “beam me up” the Scotty Spock
When I’m loose on the streets there’s a party in my pants
Its called Mr. Gangrene, so give it a chance
Its rough, and it back talks, fills your expanse  
Mean people take note: its sharper than a lance
“Ouch” say the kitty, the milk is spicy/hot
But smooth like a foxtrot, quick like a gunshot
We got Mars on our brains, pop goes the Champagne
Open up wide, disappears down the drain
Getting funky, wasted, teacher’s got a pet
Named Julie, Bobby, Franky, and Mrs. Peanut
It was time for a break, it was time for a plan
How do I get those nipples in my hands?
I could ask, I could beg, think of something sweet
But the simple fact remains: my distance from your teats
When I look to the mirror and out pops a pimple
I'm reminded of the time I nutted on your dimple
Its summer in the Mission and you’re fresh like a taco
Welcome aboard -- “Giddy Up,” Bronco
Vegas is hot, San Francisco bumpin
Driving through Rome: my crib is thumpin
Its a bumpin, a thumpin, a b-b-b-b-bumpin!
From NASA to Boeing to Delta First Class
When you hear a sonic boom: I’m tapping that ass
Its a one-way/two-way, don't give a crap
You just hit the pedal, ya don't need a map
Coke, Pepsi, Sprite, or kombucha
Gonna pump you full of Thus Spake Zarathustra
Descartes, Socrates, Plato and China
This motherfucker was born in a diner
Minnesota, Taipei, Montreal and Chile
Football, soccer -- talking about my willy
All the Times of London, New York to L.A.
Ain’t no difference -- got my nuts on a tray
Heavy on cake with the butter cream frosting
On the cover of Vogue just like that waif Kate Moss did
Mr. Clean’s on the scene, party latrine
Kid’s jambee, eating larva-dried treats
A small step, an uncomplete erect
A caterpillar died eating Burka Queen pie
Junk Ball® planes landed today
Its gotta fizz, I’m gonna take a whizz
Shake off your tutu on my behind
Get baked on Voodoo -- we’re drinking fine wine
I called Captain Zulu just to give me the time
But my man was to busy humping Bach on a landmine
From NASA to Boeing to Delta First Class
When you hear a sonic boom: I’m tapping that ass
Track Name: Puff Up The Volume
I’m about to bust a nut on your Grandma
There's a fire on the dance floor and it's burnin up the tramps
The sound of the bass drum pumps a hole through your pants
The guy’s got credit, but the ladies want cash
It's a hustle for their cougars and their VIP trash
The sins of man all covered in lights
Yearning for a fantasy in fishnet tights
The office drove a gentleman straight to tears
Now he's huffin-and-a-puffin like he hasn't for years
Puff up the volume, its time to roll one
Bring up the noise and loose controla
There’s time for action, a rhythm to conjoin
Broke like a fool, trying to jump my loin
But really lets get serious for a minute
I’m Quad Core buff, hung full of Luminum
Nothing can stop me, I’m out to win
So puff up the volume, exploit my sin
I’m in the middle of it stuffin it in
Deep like Bloomberg runnin for a 4th term
Bike lanes causing lawsuits, crashing cars don’t wanna turn
We in the middle of it sitting like cauliflower
On top of City Hall, Garden Tower
Puff up the volume, exploit my sin, I’m in the middle of it stuffing it in
Puff up the volume, there’s a dribble on your chin, the way you make love is like a kick in the shin
Trouble in the mainframe ripping up the block
She’s a 4-story walk-up jigglin as she walks
She’s a vowel with an accent tripping on your tongue
She's a jazz saxophonist like Lester friggin Young
Puff up the volume I’m out to win
Puff up the volume, exploit my sin, I’m in the middle of it stuffin it in
Puff up the volume, there’s a dribble on your chin, the way you make love is like a kick in the shin
Track Name: It's A Tough Day, Hard Day
It’s a tough day, it’s a hard day, all my dreams they done burned away
An avalanche of my dreams are in the lion’ s den and now its connected like a mother guards her nest
So, how do I reconcile the choices that I’ve made? I’ve established that I want to play in the game, but sometimes a point guard misses his step like my boys Quad Muff that got no respect. Its nice to hypothesize what could have been, but that’s a bad idea ‘cause you’ll reach for the gin. And my future is open and I bought a new suit, its crazy orange leather made from alien antelope poop. Skills skills skills are the way I made my name, “Spicy Hands Mottel” is what all the critics say. Music and art is all that I got but its not as solid like a gold nugget rock.
I remember when I played a few times with Marc Ribot but every time I see him now he simply don’t remember no more. Kyp Malone: “Fall In Love” was the name of our band, now Kyp in TV On The Radio sweepin cross the land. Don’t forget Battles, they’re signed to Warp Records, but it used to be me and Ian Williams on Storm & Stress records. Touch and Go: always super cool, but my demos never made it to the top of the pool.
Talibam!: we got 27 records, 19 tours of Europe, yet we can’t do any better? With bands like Wavves too doped to play a show, we be professional musicians who can be trusted with yer dough. All my friends are famous, and all my colleagues hot, I got 4 kids in the station-wagon, the tires about to pop. Its no joke when I bust my ass workin 9 to 5, my ex-wife thinks I’m stupid replacing music for my life. Free jazz drummers: they’re a motherfuckin dime a dozen, sheddin all their chops like anyones gotta give 'em something. Saxophones, trumpets, guitars, keyboards and bass -- the scene is too crowded, get yo dick out of my face. I work hard to make my dreams come true -- “DIY to the 9’s,” so get yer hand out Betty Boo.
Yo check it man, I’m sorry to step in, but I got a few more rhymes to spit in the wind: I need time time time to make my art alive, confusion and dementia should not be on my mind, focused and relaxed is the vibe -- I don’t give a shit if Saddam Hussein’s still alive.
It’s a tough day, it’s a hard day, all my dreams they done burnt away.
Music and art is all that I got but its not as solid as a gold nugget rock.
Track Name: #Noschool Rap Report
I’ll find my focus with a bit of temporary negligence
It’s time to share what I got of intelligence
Standard signature won’t be enough, data eye socket
Make a shadow of a star, play a game of Pong
And you arrive in Belgium (Ghent), off the train in a car
Not knowing how far -- then arrival: say, “hello”
Drink yer drink, get sweetly stoked, stoked to play, always are
You’ve got to hustle hard, create magic gravity
On planet Mars, find the tone, make them moan
Frantic energy pulse flows control their bodies in the zone
You bought my merch, sweet eye contact always works
As a thank you, can I make you go berserk?
There’s nothing as nice as sitting on a park bench after dark
Little box of candy on my pillow, wifi service, will deliver our slippers
Whack whack chimpy wimp a pumpy whump woof woof
Feelin like a snack, take a doggybag poof poof
Bring bring ringa ringa holler Tim Burton
Got a plan for an animated movie about the Kremlin
Trippy trippy trippin up hard on whippets
These 2 little Goblins find a donut on a spaceship
Its a trippy-trappy-trippy-trap set by the Russians
The Goblins transform into b-b-b-b-b bacon
B-b-b-b  b-b-b-b  b-b-b  bacon
The g-g-g Goblins turn to b-bacon
B-bacon be taken to the Kremlin’s k-k-kitchen
To be eaten with some  m-m-m-m  m-m-m  mutton
The Russians eat it up and the Goblins be plumpin...
...Up the tummy’s of the Soviet soldiers, “Ain’t it somethin!”
After dinner when the troops be takin a rest
The Goblins reform and they pop out their chests
The k-k-k-k Kremlin be done ambushed themselves
By some little green furry dudes aborted by Elves
The moral of the story is when yer settin a trap
Don’t skip on the Tweet, keep an ear to the jockstrap
Track Name: Dr. Giggles
Who’s in the House, Dr Giggles is in the house
Oh shit! Dr fuckin Giggles is in the fuckin house
Well here’s a story about my main man
Look at him, he’s in the house
My main man Dr Giggles is in the house
So here’s this story about him from way back when
He was marooned on an island for 3 whole years
Quite quickly, he’d started to eat his underwear
I’m Dr fucking Giggles and I’m in the fuckin house
Old money from the KGB, jetliner in the shape of a mouse
Touch down on the heliopad, dead center on the yacht
Some people say I got 2 dinks -- they say its gross, but its not
I’m Dr Giggles and I’m talkin a lot of trash
I got a bazooka on my scooter, and I’m goin to a Monster Mash
So yeah you want to know why he would eat his underwear, let me tell you
Each cotton thread would have to last
So deep in his belly his knickers reappeared
Gave him the strength to escape, he had no fear
And out of his throat came a strong line of thread
He fastened it to a kite and let the wind do the rest
It lifted him clear off the island and floated all the way here
I was shocked to see him, I didn’t expect him til at least next year
I own the government and the continent and the world
Lord knows I’m a bad little man, its all because of a Cowgirl
Her name was Julie, she wore a cape and she had a tan
I nearly gave her my life, chasing her across my glands
I use to have a cute little giggle, before she broke my heart
Then one day I came home from the spaceship, found her naked with her legs apart
Damn, Dr Giggles -- thats messed up! I feel for ya
She had met some Alien dude, some wanker with a dumb little pout
That girl she may have broke my heart, but man she knocked me out
Dr fucking Giggles in the mother fuckin house
He runnin back and forth chasing a mouse
He floated in on a river of sin
So he’s making up for it with a toothy grin
Dr Giggles lost his brain
Somewhere deep in Catalonia, Spain
A poisonin’ mariachi band was to blame
Tequila and Cuervo, he had no shame
Track Name: Kosmische Karma
Well my name is Kevin and I’m rockin to the beat
Its my drumming that you’re listening too, and ain’t it pumpy sweet
It goes boom boom crack crack and cymbal cymbal wash wash
Like Winona Ryder stealin candy til all the kids say, “Oh my gosh”
When Lady Gaga milks a cow and it falls dead on her face
There’s a rhythm to my drumming, squirting logic into space
Its a beat that ended communism, started Desert Storm
But for me its just another day, my drum beats are the norm
In Israel and Pakistan and Palestine and France
Its a beat that launched the missile into someone else’s pants
Its from the drum beat in South Africa that apartheid got its chance
Its from the drum beat in China that makes the politician’s sensor dance
Its from drum beat in Canada that keeps its borders so tight
Like a humdrum tourist ingenue in Spanish twilight
Its from the drum set rhythm in Jamaica that sent the man to role a joint
It wasn't flute/trumpet/woodwind, but a drummer, is my point
Stock footage ornaments a lot of documentary films these days
Its cause the drummer set her trap kit up, she sits down and plays
Its a vegan in Brooklyn, Berlin, Amsterdam or Tokyo
That heard a drummer's rhythm and got inspired by the flow
I'm a drummer so I know that the honey’s dig the mojo
They don't even matter if a gong falls on yer toe
Your cool, your hot, your rhythm drives your junk
I wake up in a hot tub surrounded by my spunk
Now I'm chillin on a spaceship, abducted by E.T.
He's tryin to rub Reese’s Pieces all over me
I’m sticky, I’m stuck, quack goes my duck
But my drums they won’t stop, even E.T.’s shit out of luck
Yo, check it: my name is Matt Mottel, I’m rockin keys like a tramp
On an oil well, I’m going to romance
I’ve been to Berlin, Belize and Kansas City too
Always droppin knowledge on the folks who come to groove
I got riffs in my fingers, melody out my ears
Total love for chord changes I only learnt this year
This song pays my rent, my music ain’t an accident
Its cosmic karma sexy that you hear it
The shit is real, been studying for years
I got Mozart on my brain and Snoop Dogg out the rear
Track Name: Sweet Leader
I'm a sex genius, I'm a zombie crusher
You still stinkin? Oh baby I like it weird
Yo yo yo -- two-tone morose with the full-suspension
She walked into the room and cut the tension
DayGlo bikini in the party lights
Looking for a refill on a Saturday night
Sweet leader: you're so fine
Sweet leader: gonna make you mine
"Sweet leader" is a code for the clamp
She'll dive face first just to lick your stamp
She'll make you pout like you're suckin on a lime
Then quench your inferno with a keg of slime
When she gallops through town, better put on a poncho
She's ridden every buck from boy to bronco
She's soiled more bibles than a man can tell
The priests fear the day that they'll meet her in hell
When its a hot day, you'll want some napkins
Wipe off your sweat, girl -- you'll make my berries blue
Her body is her weapon, its about to blast
The collateral damage: deep and vast
Sweet leader: you're so fine
Sweet leader: gonna make you mine
Sweet leader: don't tell your girlfriend
Sweet leader: she's drowning in the deep end
Sweet leader: she don't want a boyfriend
Sweet leader: she's a ninja in the quicksand
When its a hot day, you'll want some napkins
Wipe off that sweat, girl -- you'll make my berries blue
Sweet leader: yeah, you're so fine
Sweet leader: gonna make you mine
Track Name: Death Is In A Hot Dog
Jack is in a hot dog, he’s runnin around town
Making all these crazy deliveries while thinking about a sound
The hawk is swirklin, start up the wagon
A sound is in a hot dog, its tappin in his ears
Not subtle but ultra clear
He thinks he knows that one day it’ll reappear
Death is in a hot dog, its like an oil stick from Minola
Brought to yer gut just straight up like my fly girl wearin Manolos
Red Leader 1: there’s a fire in my basket
Death is a hot dog, but don’t fear it
Its coming forth to us all
Its just a grand invitation to the next sweet ball
My dik done told me what I wanted to do
Gas is in a hot dog, its electrically wound
All the cables of the world hanging us deep from the ground
It forces us to be near with an outage we start to fear
Like a winter cough that’s destined to appear
Hot hot hot hot hotilly-diggily hot
Eat it while its hot in the wheat bun -- damn son
Spicy pickledy relish, equation makes me jealish
Pump the intestine, end it with a question
My dick done told me what I wanted to do
And it told me that I wanted to do you
I got race on my brains, cloggin up the drains
The TV/computer exhuming my remains
Tweetin nostalgia, my yogas insane
Hindu, robot, post-loaf ‘Trane
From Fuji to Rio to Denver and shit
The fellas and me, we wanna go on a trip
Good/slimy Maryse, Rock Row
Its a couple of flavors that made some dough
Airplanes, bicycles, cars and Doritos®
Don’t matter what when you’re wearin your Speedos
Chicken carcass bong in a 3 dollar town
Gonna cruise past Hong Kong unfound
Chump change drips from the breast to the lips
Gaddfi’s face is a blob full of blips
Would you put some chicken on my sweet-ass reverb
Its mean and spicy like a weed addict beaver
My baby spreads the slime, its goin around
Jump on the bedspread and make daddy proud
Clooney bangs Berlusconi’s wang
A Vietnam veteran shouts, “Hot dang”
Papa’s got a headache and he blew out the town
Underneath the fireplace the soot’s comin down
Kyp and Culk: no need for the Hulk
Call Hugs and party, deliver ex-bulk
My bitch got the clamp and its goin around
Should’ve been waxin me a dollar for a pound
I love it when you call me Big Grappa
Put your hands in the air and call my buddy Moppa
I’m a mean, cold-spinning arrhythmic queef
Su Z. Armageddon’s Cheez Whiz on the CD
Group shower, Facebook page
Little Shirley Temple got baseboarded today
Well I’m trippin in the sun on the way to the Grammy’s
Will Smith and Sting wearing matching pajamies
2 seconds of Pasta Slovenatron
Greece is loose and Madonna’s gone
I’m on my way to a 3rd date with Condoleezza Rice
She’s perky, she’s smart, gets nasty with my dice
I’m driving to her home, its a pad with some class
She’s got Moët, satin sheets, and a pretty great ass
I’m Inspector Maggot, I’m dead in a casket
I’m trashed Basque madness, I’m cocaine devil sadness
I’m drinking Cookies’ petals with thugs
Who sprayed my boot, I’ve got a ransom to stuff
Condoleezza is a firecracker the way she holds me down
She’s hungry from my plump pop all over her see-through gown
She ties me to the bedpost and whips me like a swine
I love Condoleezza Rice, she’s cuddly and she’s mine
I’ve got the radio playing on my stereo
Hifi transmission going thru my soul
Tee’N’Ay: checkout -- ruins my eyes
Don’t hesitate at Pies ‘N’ Thighs
Yo Mottel-in-the-hotel, check it out, here’s Condoleezza’s #
Just give her a call and tell her whose calling is Mr Thunder
Track Name: Mottel In The Hotel
Yo all you ladies in the house: its time to get intellectual
When I give you a little bit of hover, I’m gonna make you get under the covers
Dethrone the King -- you’ve earned it, you thinked
Time to make it with the Queen
If you keep your right intention, sooner or later you’ll enter the right dimension
Just have a vibe that works, whatever that may be
Create an extraordinary amount of indecency
Then maybe ya proceed to me, got lots of arms to hold at bay -- you feel me?
Mottel’s in the hotel, got a full-color swimming pool
And an indoor TV, and its chlorine-free
The sun is shining and I blurred my destiny
Mottel’s in the hotel. Yeah I’m deep in sack
Can I call you on the phone? You can call me collect
You got a jacuzzi? Its in my TV (10...)
How much will it cost? For my homies its free (9...)
What about the parking? Got a private garage (8...)
Does your hotel have a pool? Yeah I’m keepin it large (7...)
How about the concierge? She’s asleep in my suite (6...)
Can I order room service? Ceviche’s on me (5...)
What floor are you on? I own the whole spot (4...)
What’s up on the roof? Its a rocket I bought (3...)
We’re deep in the countdown. We’re heading to space (2...)
Where are we going? The Mottel Moon Base (1...)
Liftoff
Mottel’s in the hotel