Distant Solar Systems

Distant solar systems and all the minor planets
 Know nothing of our satellites and 747s
 Fireworks that recreate the birth of constellations
 Dying suns that laugh at shotgun powder imitations
 When I am a sailor and the sky a pitch-black ocean
 I'll look down at my bleeding heart and wish I were a Vulcan
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 It's Byzantine structures churches and all
 All of our treasure of oil and gold
 
 All of the empires crumble in stone
 
 Great architecture gilded in chrome
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 God and I, we correspond with intermittent letters
 I send postcards from the road, and now and then He answers
 Echoes Northern city-states and all the mighty kingdoms
 Head of sewing needles on an unending horizon
 "I knew the words you'd sing before you ever thought to sing them
 You call yourself a bastard, and I love you like an orphan"
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 'Cause great men of science and literature
 Don't impress me, can I offer it?
 'Cause I am a chisel in Your hand
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 Screaming at marble from a microphone stand