The farther away you get, the dimmer you do appear;
Telemetry’s burden’s bet, as telescopes taunt my ears.
Parallax vision shows that double the pleasure is not;
The light from your eyes like snow, landing on surfaces hot.
Weekends will come and then go, as friends with new ostriches sleep;
I wish he’d a brought me some blow, that I could then toot off your bleep.