I pray for one last landing on the globe that gave us birth let me rest my eyes once more

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Skeptic Tank!

I pray for one last landing on the globe that gave us birth let me rest my eyes once more upon the fleecy skies and the cool green hills of Earth. let the sweet fresh breezes heal me as they rove around her girth of our lovely mother planet of the cool green hills of Earth. we rot in the molds of venus we retch at her tainted breath. foul are her flooded jungles, crawling with unclean death. let me breath unrationed air again, where there's no lack or dEarth. as we stand upon the harsh bright soil of Luna, all eyes turn to see the Earth. We stand upon the dead, red soil breathing deep the cold thin air. Ancient Mars, your visions take us in, but still we seek worlds fair. The hills and fields of Ganymede, her sky filled by father Jove, yet still thses sights don't satisfy, and farther still we rove. Yes, out we go, the race of man, to Saturn's rainbow rings, yet the frozen night of Titan, makes us think upon some things. We've tried each spinning space mote, and reckoned their true worth. Take us back again to the homes of Men, on the cool green hills of Earth. The arching sky is calling Spacemen to their trade. "All Hands! Stand By! Free Falling!" And the lights below us fade. Out ride the sons of Terra, far drives the thundering jet. Up! leaps the race of Earthmen, out far, and onwards yet. We pray for one last landing, on the globe which gave us birth. Let us rest our eyes on fleecy skies, and the cool green hills of Earth.

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E-Mail Fredric L. Rice / The Skeptic Tank