The sun is a guy who travels through the sky, in a great big chariot of fire.
It’s getting pretty dark, looking like he might depart, Leaving nothing but an everlasting night. 

The sun is bright, but quite a spiteful jerk sometimes we’ve found,
But if we sacrifice some goats Maybe he’ll come around. 

The sun is a mass of incandescent gas, a gigantic nuclear furnace.
Where hydrogen makes helium at a temperature of millions of degrees    

The sun is hot, the sun is not a place where we could live.
But here on earth there'd be no life without the light it gives.   

The sun is a miasma of incandescent plasma. The sun's simply not made out of gas. No! no! no!
The sun can inspire, but it's not made of fire. Forget what you've been told in the past.    

(Plasma!) Electrons are free. (Plasma!) A fourth way to be. Not gas, not liquid, not solid.
(Plasma!) Forget that song. (Plasma!) They got it wrong. The thesis has been rendered invalid