Aeroplane

Jethro Tull

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    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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