Flying, made of sticks and paper
(Aeroplane)
Dying, is the wind not climbing?
(My aeroplane)
Blowing, and going somewhere high;
In the evening tumblin' down,
But it's surely been up there
Crying, want to live my life as my aeroplane
Sighing, in the [sun time, but softly?]
(My aeroplane)
Lonely, but only until it comes down
Where there's people running 'round
But it's surely been up there,
Flying
(My aeroplane)
(My aeroplane)
(My aeroplane)
(My aeroplane)