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.