Did you hear that tinkle winkle,
Down inside my deep fried brain?
Was it me to winkle stinkle,
Or just you calling my name?
Sometimes words hurt my umbrella,
Or just get lost along the way.
Very often -interstellar-
I intend to drift astray.
So tell me know, my good old friend,
Who told you that we’re leaving soon?
No map, no sign that I did send,
Mentioned our killing moon.
The way you look at things appeals me,
The way you steal my time at night,
The many ways you don’t intent to,
Makes me breathe my air quite light.
Beneath all this, our time is ticking,
sand flows humble streams of gold,
Above all this, sky sets the limit,
And fairytales are being told.
kurz & klein 