[Part 1: Lifting Off]
How many times did I hear
Space the final frontier
Like a punchline or jeer
Used to pull me apart

Now at 90 years old
Could I be that bold
A dream packaged and sold
Life to imitate art

The press devoured the story
Of my potential glory
To make some sort of history
But how did I feel

Potential explosions filled me
With dread
Dozens of ways I could wind
Up dead
Danced in my head
The fear was real

Strapped into the craft in my seat
Just like Star Fleet
My heart skipped a beat
And in thе blink of an eye
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