He's Dead, Jim

Magenta clouds and a sky that's pure cerulean,

In walks a middle-aged man with mascara on;

And a girl with pale lipstick, boots and a miniskirt,

What can you say -- it's just that kind of universe.

I met you once in a bar out on Alcestis 3,

I said I watched you every day in reruns on TV.

"Well you can't take it seriously," you said and laughed,

And shook my hand and climbed aboard the shuttle craft.

As the light of binary suns shines from above,

And she says, "What is this thing that you call love?"

So when you died it must've seemed like a cosmic joke,

Did you hear a muffled laugh when the angel spoke:

"He's dead, Jim."