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| Hawkwind Other Hawkwind The Awakening I would rather the fire storms of atmospheres Than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dreams, into the starkness of this capsule. Two of our crew still lay suspended cool in their tombs of sleep. Those nagging choirs of memory the tubes and wires running from their flesh to machinery I would have to cut Such midwifery is but one function of the leader here Floating in a sac of fluid dark A clear century of space Away from Earth Turner stared from the trauma of his birth Attentive to the hypno-tapes Assuring him that this was reality however grim Our journey's end Landing itself was nothing We touched upon a shelf of rock selected by the automind And left a galaxy of dreams behind..... |
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