And [bad word] next 
chance to save ourselves 
Imagine magma [bad word] in rock 
And on the surface of this world 
All eyes are on the clock 
All our empires, our philosophies 
Our practiced faiths, our revolutions 
Our proud sciences are but a flickering 
In one day of the lives of the stars 

We can breathe in space 
They just don't want us to escape 
We can breathe in space 
They just don't want us to escape 

And [bad word] next 
The constellations, yes, all 88 of them 
chance to save ourselves 
Like the G8, they meet to procrastinate 
Greetings, we are an infant species 
Crawling into our own premature decline 
The north star is chairing the meeting 
He knows we're spoilt 
And he's sniggering at our histories 

We can breathe in space 
They just don't want us to escape 
We can breathe in space 
They just don't want us to escape 

The hollow proposals mean we'll migrate 
But they'll bleed us dry until the 11th hour 
And when dawn breaks I'll sit and stagnate 
With this metric tonne on your shoulders 
How do you cope 
We are an infant species 
Crawling into our own premature decline 
The north star is chairing the meeting 
He knows we're spoilt 
And he's sniggering at our histories 

Let's prove the stars wrong 
We've got to do this 

I find it hard to believe that we are alone