Peter Schilling
Standing there alone,
the ship is waiting.
All systems are go.
“Are you sure?”
Control is not convinced,
but the computer
has the evidence.
No need to abort.
The countdown starts.
Watching in a trance,
the crew is certain.
Nothing left to chance,
all is working.
Trying to relax
up in the capsule
“Send me up a drink.”
jokes Major Tom.
The count goes on…
4, 3, 2, 1
Earth below us
drifting, falling.
Floating weightless
calling, calling home…
Second stage is cut.
We’re now in orbit.
Stabilizers up,
runnning perfect.
Starting to collect
requested data.
“What will it affect
when all is done?”
thinks Major Tom.
Back at ground control,
there is a problem.
“Go to rockets full.”
Not responding.
“Hello Major Tom.
Are you receiving?
Turn the thrusters on.
We’re standing by.”
There’s no reply.
4, 3, 2, 1
Earth below us
drifting, falling.
Floating weightless
calling, calling home…
Across the stratosphere,
a final message:
“Give my wife my love.”
Then nothing more.
Far beneath the ship,
the world is mourning.
They don’t realize
he’s alive.
No one understands,
but Major Tom sees.
“Now the light commands
this is my home,
I’m coming home.”
Earth below us
drifting, falling.
Floating weightless
coming home…
Earth below us
drifting, falling.
Floating weightless
coming, coming
home…
home…..
Patrocinado
