Point Me At The Sky (BBC Radio Session, 02 December 1968)

Hey Eugene, 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 and Jumps into his cosmic flyer Pulls his plastic collar higher Light the fuse and stand right 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 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 pushing 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 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 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, better run and get your bags, it's goodbye Nobody cry, it's goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbye