Where's my quill? Where's my satchel bag?

Make haste! Clouds are soon to eat the moon!

Heavens! How will I write?

A star just bloomed and sent my muse a tune

Curse this broken quill! When will the stars

Send us ships full of gifts?

They've room for us all

With wheels and wings of fire

They'll save us from ourselves

Quick, it's hell down here

Out there is at the light only the Silent see

Out there is always where you can never be

Boot my pager up and read the ads:

'Secretaries, too, can Meet the Sun!'

'Son of Man Seeks Lass'

Press return and punch the password in

Locked on log-on, the signal's jammed

Users keep clogging lines

There's space for us all

Past where we've gone

Where we shall overflow

Overthrow, and outgrow

Out there is that light only the Silent see

Out there is always where you can never be

Out there is so designed to let your mind go free

Out there is always where you can never be

Out there is: Paradise, not parasites

Holidays, not squalid days

Out there, no proselytizing Pharisee

Will dowse your works in kerosene

To sterilize your heresy

Out there, no one imagines God's complaints

And thus commands that sacred paints

Be used to clothe your naked saints

Out there is that light only the Silent see

Out there is always where you can never be

Out there if so inclined you'll let your mind go free

Out there is always where you can never be