There is your ticket, there’s your car,
It’s in good order, you may now board here.
In Technicolor heaven your dreams are,
A constant movie for three hundred years.

All’s now behind you, all you’ve seen,
We took your prints, and smuggled goods won’t pass.
Like seraphim you’re sterile-clean,
You still get bedding, though you aren’t in first class.

Now all the prophecies are now all coming true;
A skyward train - we wish you all the best!
Oh how we want to, how we’re all wanting to
Not die, but definitely sleep and rest.

This station Earth... Don’t look so blue,
No point in shouting; it’s deaf now to our calls.
Where one of us is travelling to -
He’ll meet God there; there must be God, after all.

Go tell him hi from us, you know...
If you forget, we’ll live, and we won’t cry.
We’ve got a few more years to go,
We’ll play some more, and properly we’ll die.

Now all the prophecies are now all coming true;
A skyward train - we wish you all the best!
Oh how we want to, how we’re all wanting to
Not die, but definitely sleep and rest.

Our sons and grandsons, three ages hence,
Will follow us into this void without dreams.
Though God forbid a war, perchance,
Or else our great-grandsons will very foolish seem.

You’ll wake, and someone’ll show you to
A world where cancer, stench and war are past,
Where vanquished is the Hong Kong Flu...
For all things ready - are you happy, fool, at last?

Now all the prophecies are now all coming true;
A skyward train - we wish you all the best!
Oh how we want to, how we’re all wanting to
Not die, but definitely sleep and rest.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

Well then, farewell, there goes the bell,
Safe be your journey from all troubles and goodbye!
And if you do meet God there, then tell
From all of us below - just tell Him "hi".