In our red rockets, and gas filled space suits
As we looked out of our round port-holes
We found the carcass of God
Rotting in the vacuum, strings of blood-red matter reeling out
And He was vast and shining once
But now He's just a traffic hazard in the interstellar routes
Where liners full of fat tourists stop off to see
Where the two miles wide godhead breathed and loved once
Now just a tangle of dead dark matter
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