[Intro | spoken, sparse, close] Log one. Recording. Hi, Lou, it's Mum. The little light is green. My voice takes a second and a bit to reach you. That's the space in between. [Verse 1] We landed Tuesday. Well, it's always sort of Tuesday here. There's no proper day. The sun comes up and stays up for two whole weeks. Then it goes away. The base is smaller than our flat. Six of us. One kettle. One window, round and small. I share a room with Ines. She grows lettuce in a cupboard down the hall. They call me Bounce. I fell over twice on the first day, floating down like a feather. Ines's nickname is Lettuce. The commander's is just Boss. He says we'll get used to the weather. [Hook | urgent, building] I can see you from here. I can see you from here. Hold your thumb up at the window. That's how big you are from here. I can see you from here. And I think something can see me. I don't know what it is. It isn't scary. It's just near. [Verse 2] But there's something I haven't told the others yet. Only you. Okay? On the second night, at three a.m., the floor began to hum. Not a noise. A sway. Like a very slow heartbeat, through my bunk, through my bones. And then it stopped. The seismometer caught it too. Boss said, "Moonquake." Then he saw the graph. His coffee cup dropped. Slowly. I'm not frightened, Lou. That's the strange bit. It felt like someone checking in. Like when I look in on you at night, just to see you're there, then close the door again. [Bridge | slower, softer] Out of the window there's no sound at all. No wind. No birds. Nothing outside. Just grey, and black, and stars, and one blue marble. And the feeling someone's sitting just beside. [Hook] I can see you from here. I can see you from here. Hold your thumb up at the window. That's how big you are from here. I can see you from here. And I think something can see me. I don't know what it is. It isn't scary. It's just near. [Outro | quiet, spoken] That's log one. Brush your teeth. Don't tell Dad about the hum. He'll worry. Over and out, little one.
