| I learned the truth at seventeen
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| That Asimov and Bradbury
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| And Clarke were alphabetically
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| My very perfect ABC’s
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| While Algernon ran every maze
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| And slow glass hurt my heart for days
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| I sat and played a sweet guitar
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| And Martians grokked me from afar
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| Odd John was my only friend
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| Among the clocks and Ticktockmen,
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| While Anne Mccaffrey’s dragons roared
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| Above the skies of Majipoor
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| Bukharan winds blew cold and sharp
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| And whispered to my secret heart
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| You are no more alone
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| Welcome home
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| Tribbles came, and triffids went
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| Time got wrinkled, then got spent
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| Kirinyaga’s spirits soared
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| And Turtledove re-write a war
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| While Scanners searched, and loved in vain
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| Hal Nine Thousand went insane
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| And Brother Francis had an ass
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| Whose wit and wile were unsurpassed
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| Every story I would read
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| Became my private history
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| As Zenna’s People learned to fly
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| And Rachel loved until we cried
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| I spent a night at Whileaway
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| Then Houston called me just to say
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| You are no more alone
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| So welcome home
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| Who dreams a positronic man?
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| Who speaks of mist, and grass, and sand?
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| Of stranger station’s silent tombs?
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| Of speech that sounds in silent rooms?
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| Who waters deserts with their tears?
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| Who sees the stars each thousand years?
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| Who dreams the dreams for kids like me
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| Whose only home is fantasy?
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| Let’s drink a toast to ugly chickens
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| Marley’s ghost, and Ender Wiggins
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| Every mother’s son of you,
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| And all your darling daughters, too
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| And when the aliens finally come,
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| We’ll say to each and every one
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| You are no more alone
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| So welcome home
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| Welcome home |