what held us together
has fallen apart
we have laid our necks on the line
we have sent for dark claws to sever our bonds
we have summoned rockets decorated as pork legs
are paper-skirt-waisted with bright
exhaust blare circlets saying come come come
come warm bones grown far too old for life
this far from Sun we were birthed under
we have cried the cries the un-fed kittens cry
and still the only answer comes
you do not need us
now you have Happiness Machines
to trance all spares would otherwise have had to
have been sent out like us to colonise
it doesn't matter now how ill we pioneers survive
you bastards at least scrape
the budget for one ship just one
to fetch us home to let us try
your bastard Happiness Machine before we die
you what you say? you say
the only vision the Machine gives them
is being us out here under another star
with room to die alone?
