The Awakening Lyrics - Live At The Astoria - Hawkwind

I would rather the fire-storms of atmospheres 

Than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dreams 

Into the starkness of the capsule 

Where two of our crew still lie suspended cool 

In their tombs of sleep. 

The nagging choirs of memory 

The tubes and wires worming from their flesh 

To machinery 

I would have to cut... 

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Such midwifery is but one 

Function of the leader here 

Floating in a sac of fluid dark 

A clear century 

Of space away from Earth 

While one man stirs from the trauma of his birth 

Attending to the hypno-tapes 

Assuring him that this was reality 

However grim 

Our journey's end. 

Photos 

Landing itself was nothing 

We touched upon a shelf of rock 

Selected by 

The automind and left a galaxy of dreams behind...