Looking up at the milky, sapphire sky
Sulphur butterflies in my titanium gut
My purpose to counteract some oversupply
Existing to add in order to cut
The launch begins, but am I ready to go
Apparently there was no choice
In those distant skies I will dilute their blue
Painting the clouds like Monet or Van Gogh
My enlightened masters can then rejoice
The fallout left for somebody new