Lyrics by David F. Cox with Music by Joseph P. Barron. Collaboration between members of the rec.music.makers songwriting newsgroup.
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Story behind the song
This is another collaboration between rec.music.makers.songwriting newsgroup members. David F. Cox wrote the lyrics and posted them on the newsgroup. As far as I know, two other members of the group did covers.
After reading the lyrics, I immediately thought of Rush. A friend mentioned that it was easier to cover a band's material then to actually create a new piece of music in their style. I took the challenge and feel I had mix results, at best.
I'm playing all instruments. The guitar is a 1983 Gibson ES-335 Custom Shop. It is played through a Line 6 Pod. The bass is a Warwick fretless, played through a direct box. The drums are sequenced through a Roland 1080 synth module, which also creates the PAD fills.
A couple of the patterns were stolen from a couple of Rush tunes (I really can't remember which.)
I'm doing all the vocals, sorry. I also need to add a guitar solo and need to develop, shorten or remove the break.
Lyrics
We eke a grim existence
while the world about us dies
A star of hope shines brightly
in the blackness of the skies
alien wit, salvations device
alien wit, salvations device
to heaven with strange angels
one so far off day
In chariots of fire
with unsure feet of clay
a Siberian paradise
with thick moist air and warm, warm ice
alien grit, salvations device
Their minds can go
where their feet don't know
and travel to the stars
and so they reach
for what we teach
the kinder here on Mars
alien wit, salvations device
alien wit, salvations device
to heaven with strange angels
one so far off day
In chariots of fire
with unsure feet of clay
a Siberian paradise
with thick moist air and warm, warm ice
alien grit, salvations device
Let the aliens take the strain
put us on their gravy train
they would be quicker if they knew
we'd add our flavour to their stew
alien wit, salvations device
alien wit, salvations device
to heaven with strange angels
one so far off day
In chariots of fire
with unsure feet of clay
a Siberian paradise
with thick moist air and warm, warm ice
alien grit, salvations device
