A hundred million billion stars and what do I get?

Mars.

Red and dead and full out space and where to put it?
got no place.

Seven trillion light years on trolling through with satisfaction knowing  that Supermarionation has not gone just faded with the time and light,
Anderson was right we should have called him Einstein, night becomes the whir, the blur and suddenly he's standing there, strings that hold his head in place, in space that's what you get if you don't expect, I expect nothing more than this and if I expected any less I'd be expecting a full moon somewhere where the wolves who dare will howl at me and me with Mars in my backyard, life's flamin' hard ask Red Riding Hood or Robin Hood the local boy who was so bad that he done good.

Mars,
what the hell to do with red and dust and dead,
I should go to def' con' five
a part of me still lives
I am alive,
out in space we can survive but
not on
Mars.