Point Me At The Sky (BBC Radio Session, 20 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

Jumps into his cosmic flyer
Pulled 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
So the man next to you can 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 (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
Tell my mother I'm missing her and another
It's goodbye
Hey Jean look at the screen and it's goodbye
Look hey, the milky way and it's goodbye
Bye, bye, bye, bye, goodbye
Hey Jean look at me we're saying goodbye
It's bye-bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, bye, goodbye
Bye, bye, bye, bye, goodbye