Be my receptors,
These are troubled stimuli.
Fall off the radar,
Grasp a hand on a satellite.

Your sail is rising,
And bunkers run dry,
You’re stranded in Draco,

With satellites,
Satellites.

Be my receptors,
These are troubled stimuli.
Fall off the radar,
Grasp a hand on a satellite.

Your sail is rising,
And bunkers run dry,
You’re stranded in Draco,
But no one knows why.
Bemused by the dragon,
That’s always in flight,
Now you’re part of the orbit.

With satellites,
Satellites,
Satellites,
Satellites.