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.)
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