We need quarters like King Tut needed a boat. A slave could row him to

    heaven from his crypt in Egypt full of loot. We've lived quietly among the

    stars， knowing money isn't what matters. We only bring enough to tip the

    shuttle driver when we hitch a ride aboard a trailblazer of light. This comet

    could scour the planet. Make it sparkle like a fresh toilet swirling with blue.

    Or only come close enough to brush a few lost souls. Time is rotting as our

    bodies wait for now I lay me down to earth. Noiseless patient spiders paid

    with dirt when what we want is star dust. If nature abhors an expensive

    appliance， why does the planet suck ozone？ This is a big ticket item， a

    thickety ride. Please page our home and visit our sigh on the wide world's

    ebb. Just point and cluck at our new persuasion shoes. We're opening the

    gate that opens our containers for recycling. Time to throw down and take

    off on our launch. This flight will nail our proof of pudding. The thrill of

    victory is， we're exiting earth. We're leaving all this dirt.