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 throgh 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 cleaner space out here to roam. Put my feet up on the moons of mars-- sit back, relax and count the stars.
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