From the recording Misaligned Apples
We never seemed to think we’d stay too long
We even shot an arc of sorts to space
So other worlds could hear Beethoven’s song
A golden disc preserving human grace
The meteors, the ice age, asteroids
There wasn’t much to pin our hopes upon
Send music, we thought, out through distant voids
Oh who will hear Beethoven when we’re gone?
Aretha and The Beatles weren’t picked
And now, because we never really tried
They’ll end with us in ways we could predict
Did dinosaurs commit such suicide?
What legacy to leave when saying goodbye?
I’m planting Merwin’s tree that day we die