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We Know, Plato!
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Aeroplanes
It came at the start of the seventh day,
blown apart by a nuclear haze.
Did we time it perfect, in the end,
when we found that Death's our medicine?
Born and raised as aeroplanes,
they said we'd fly.
Whoever said we'd ever leave...
God knows, we tried.
We were born as aeroplanes;
they said we'd fly.
We rusted out like weather-vanes
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that never touched the wind or sky.
The old hangars house many tales like ours:
Rogues carried off by some phantom power.
We sit in silence, wishing we'd been haunted, too.
At least the dust can help us to hide the gloom.
Born and raised as aeroplanes ('born and raised')
-- they said we'd fly.
But whoever said we'd ever leave...(they never said)
God knows, we tried.
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