From the porthole is the Earth, From the porthole is the Earth,
We can see the Earth from the porthole...
And a son misses his mother, And a son misses his mother,
We miss the Earth, for we are alone.
And nevertheless the Stars, And nevertheless the Stars,
Come in a lil closer, and yet we are so cold.
And as hours near the eclipse, And as hours near the eclipse
We await the light, we await otherwordly dreams
And we do not dream of the roar of our vessel,
Nor our icy blue home...
And we dream of grass, grass outside our homes,
Green, oh so green grass
And we fly in orbits,
Our paths unbroken,
Stitched with metorites
The risk justified by our bravery
The music of space,
Finds its way into professional discussions
And in the matte void,
We see the Earth from our portholes,
The evening dawn comes soon.
And a son misses his mother,
And a son misses his mother,
A mother awaits her son, and her son the Earth....
And we do not dream of the roar of our vessel,
Nor our icy blue home...
And we dream of grass, grass outside our homes,
Green, oh so green grass
And we do not dream of the roar of our vessel,
Nor our icy blue home...
And we dream of grass, grass outside our homes,
Green, oh so green grass