The people have spoken, united and clear.
Away with the dull tug of gravity. Away!
Away the dull drone of experts. “How
Shall we eat, bathe, or breathe?
Will the land not just break apart?”
Moaners are never satisfied!
If only they would get behind it.
Whining that there is no freedom
Drifting lifeless in space.
They lost and must get over it.
Do they not see how glorious,
How free an Empire we could build,
Trading with ringed planets and moons,
Under a billion callous stars?
Drake, Dunkirk, more red on the map,
The people have spoken and will pay any price.
Our countdown to destiny has started,
The universe, blue passports, the thruppenny bit…
Orbit means Orbit.