We totter on the edge of eternity,
Wired on the essence of Panacea.
Dulcet tones of shooting stars,
Echoing in the highlands of Galacia.

Unbottling elixirs recklessly,
We set ablaze the sky.
Fragrant starlight drowning us,
Moon-drunk on a galactic high.

We live on the stars, a welkin renaissance,
Stellar winds are scattering hopes.
Deserted dreams and lonely craters,
Broken bulbs and lethal ropes.

We splash around in the sanguine,
Painted in the bloodred hue.
Hazy eyes on bleak stretchers,
Your fingers brush the morning dew.

Plastic tubes are pumping life,
We rip them out and trip.
We don't need this medication,
We're living off a cosmic drip.