I would rather the firestorms of atmospheres Than this cruel decent from a hundred years of dreaming “In the starkness of the capsule” Two of our crew still lay suspended cool in their tombs of sleep The nagging choirs of memory The lengths of tube and wires Deep worming from their flesh to machinery I have to contend Such midwifery is just one function of the leader here Floating in a sack of fluid dark In a clear sector of space
One man stirred from the trauma of his birth Attentive to the tapes assuring him This was reality however grim our journeys end
The landing itself was easy We touched upon a shelf of rock Selected by the auto pilot And left a galaxy of dreams behindTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
