Huygens, ten miles high and falling fast, snaps the farthest shore.

Given the chance
I’ll die like a baby
On some faraway beach
When the season’s over

Unlikely I’ll be remembered
As the tide brushes sand in my eyes
I’ll drift away

Cast up on a plateau
With only one memory
A silver sail on a boat
Oh lie low lie low, li-li-li-li li-li-lo

— Brian Eno, 1974