It

Martin Tielli A train moving out of the station, somewhere south of it. A satellite making connections somewhere over it. One makes a long lonely howl, one is silent. A new design waits to be launched somewhere west of it. Calling all cans on the go, This is mission control Somewhere built below it. Pass that cup over here; this is boring. And I don't even do this anymore to believe The nonsense I'm hearing. A certain amount of booze is all it takes to relax me. Then it's back to my parents' home in a taxi. Back to the place I belong, To the place I belong. Somewhere built below it. I am a science boy. I grew up on dinosaurs, A million different species of birds, and aircraft. This is the science of truth, Is the science of love, Is the science of it.