Song Lyrics

III
There were almost four hundred until the black day
I discovered how high they would fly to the sky
If you used them for tennis instead of a ball..

Zinging glass satellites crueller than fate
Whacked with a racket up into the blue
I'd smashed all the greenhouses on the estate
And a crowd formed a queue at the gate..

Ian Francesko Mosley, Mark Colbert Kelly, Peter John Trewavas, Steve Hogarth, Steven Thomas Rothery