Flying, made of sticks and paper
Aeroplane
Dying is the wind but climbing
My aeroplane
Blowing, and going somewhere high
In the evening tumbling down
But it's surely been up there

Crying, want to live my life as
My aeroplane

Sighing in the sun's eye, but softly
My aeroplane

Lonely, but only till it comes down
Where there's people running round
But it's surely been up there

Flying, my aeroplane