Starry Night

The Helltrails (or better known as Asteroid Belt KQ-2539 amongst most textbooks and filing systems) were a quiet place, despite their name. What was hell about them was navigating the ever-changing constellation of varied sized rocks without collisions and fatally losing a wing or engine. Lucky them for having P.A.L. do the heavy lifting.

Weasel strummed his rusty lute with sore, scarred fingers, carefully tuning his beaten instrument while resting a bandaged leg. Crackling fire broke the silence in the otherwise unoccupied clearing, smoke surrounding him and his companion, who was feeding the flames with drywood.

Humming out the tune, he picked up the chords and began to sing softly into the starry night.

Out on the range where tumbleweeds blow,

Lone soul wandrer, heart aglow,

Cosmic skies above, void the flightless dove,

Beware, beware the shadow’s woe

Left for the money, left for fame,

Left for love and left for shame,

Left for mother, left for son,

Left for being on the run.

Bring good wine and pour me one,

Poor me, I shall never be done!

Filled with sorrow, filled with mirth,

Sun and toil, soil and earth.

So, end this sham, begone my dear,

Soon, May, June, another year,

Flying by, such flightless bird,

Softest wind I’d ever heard.