اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
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.)
