
The Brick Satellite, Part 1 Pulp Musicals
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ANNA, HERSCHEL:
We are building
We are building
ANNA:
A brick satellite
A brick satellite
Planet Earth, 1817
My father sailed ships on the Caribbean Sea
Thrown off course by a storm, suddenly
He didn’t know his place in the world
By the time the skies had finally cleared
Every bit of navigation gear
Was shattered by the storm, suddenly
They didn’t know their place in the world
HERSCHEL:
In the Northern Hemisphere, look for Polaris
In the Southern Hеmisphere, the Southеrn Cross
Latitude’s an easy thing to figure
But longitude, with no gear - you’re at a loss
ANNA:
My father was a proud man
He could follow a star
He had maps of every port in the Atlantic
But when you look up to heaven
And you don’t know where you are
You begin to give in to the panic
We are building
We are building
ANNA:
A brick satellite
A brick satellite
Planet Earth, 1817
My father sailed ships on the Caribbean Sea
Thrown off course by a storm, suddenly
He didn’t know his place in the world
By the time the skies had finally cleared
Every bit of navigation gear
Was shattered by the storm, suddenly
They didn’t know their place in the world
HERSCHEL:
In the Northern Hemisphere, look for Polaris
In the Southern Hеmisphere, the Southеrn Cross
Latitude’s an easy thing to figure
But longitude, with no gear - you’re at a loss
ANNA:
My father was a proud man
He could follow a star
He had maps of every port in the Atlantic
But when you look up to heaven
And you don’t know where you are
You begin to give in to the panic
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