| [00:06.10] |
I would rather the fire-storms of atmospheres |
| [00:10.50] |
Than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dream |
| [00:14.29] |
Into the starkness of the capsule |
| [00:17.58] |
Where two of our crew still lie suspended cool |
| [00:22.08] |
In their tombs of sleep. |
| [00:25.87] |
The nagging choirs of memory |
| [00:27.95] |
The tubes and wires worming from their flesh |
| [00:31.08] |
To machinery |
| [00:33.51] |
I would have to cut |
| [00:36.46] |
Such midwifery is but one |
| [00:38.23] |
Function of the leader here |
| [00:40.71] |
Floating in a sac of fluid dark |
| [00:43.50] |
A clear century |
| [00:44.56] |
Of space away from Earth |
| [00:47.47] |
While one man stirs from the trauma of his birth |
| [00:51.87] |
Attending to the hypno-tapes |
| [00:54.03] |
Assuring him that this is reality |
| [00:58.53] |
However grim |
| [00:59.90] |
Our journey's end |
| [01:04.22] |
Landing itself was nothing |
| [01:06.15] |
We touched upon a shelf of rock |
| [01:08.07] |
Selected by the automind |
| [01:12.35] |
And left a galaxy of dreams behind |