Hey Jean
This is Henry McCLean
And I've finished my beautiful flying machine

And I'm ringing to say
That I'm leaving and maybe
You'd like to fly with me 
And hide with me, baby

Isn't it strange
how little we change.
Isn't it sad we're insane
Playing the games that we know end in tears.
The games we've been playing
For thousands and thousands and thousands

Jumped into his cosmic flyer 
"Pull this plastic glider higher.
Light the fuse and stand well back," he cried,
"This is my last goodbye."

Point me at the sky and let it fly
Point me at the sky and let it fly
Point me at the sky and let it fly

And if you survive till two thousand and five
I hope you're exceedingly thin
For if you are stout you will have to breathe out
While the people around you breathe in (breathe in... breathe in... breathe in...)

People pressing on my sides is something that I hate
And so is sitting down to eat with only little capsules on my plate
Point me at the sky and let it fly

And all we've got to say to you is goodbye
It's time to go, [bad word] and get your bags
It's goodbye
Nobody cry, it's goodbye
Crash, crash, crash, crash
Goodbye.