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.