Из альбома: Under Wraps
Sailing round the true-blue sphere---
is it too late to bale out of here?
Well, there has to be some better way
to turn back the night,
spin on to yesterday.
The old man and his crew---
after all these years,
it's apogee.
Pilot training and remorse---
spirit friends fly too,
at apogee.
Apogee --- solar bright.
Apogee --- through the night.
Apogee --- overground.
Don't think I'll be coming down.
Screened for a stable mate
with nerves of ice we flew,
at apogee.
No creativity allowed
to pass through stainless veins of steel,
at apogee.
Apogee --- put the kettle on.
Tight-lipped --- soldier on.
High point --- communicate.
Don't forget to urinate.
So glad they put this window in.
How to explain, how to begin?
See! Tennyson and Wordsworth there
waiting for me in the cold, thin air.
Beware a host of unearthly daffodils
drifting golden, turned up loud.
Tell the boys back home,
I'm gonna get some.
The Wrong Stuff's loose in here ---
I'm climbing up the walls,
at apogee.
So hoist the skull and bones ---
death and glory's free,
at apogee.
A stranger wind, a solar breeze ---
I'm walking out upon the starry seas.
See pyramids, see standing stones ---
pink cotton undies and blue telephones.
Goodbye, cruel world that was my home ---
there's a cleaner space out there to roam.
Put my feet up on the moons of Mars ---
sit back, relax and count the stars.