Space, 1961

There is a place, where birds don’t fly
A home of silence and sattelites
And I feel the world smiles at me
Fading in astral melancholy
I am forgotten by history and gravity
The state I’m in is a feist for poetry
Hopeless and helpless I realized —
Science’s the only god and it feeds with sacrifice
I know You don’t want me back
I am so meaningless
The closer to stars the more I feel like I’m falling down
Silence, here I come into your arms
I’m lucky to choose between the blade, hunger and cold
Final move and I am coming home