The plane is a utility
Staying still is fallacy
We live with the energy
–everything is made to see
I stand reckless
With zero inhibition
my deftness
–their operation
incisions into the sky
are my surgeries
(that aviation is busy)
lying about injections
Saying he is an alien
But there is no throwing mechanism
To send them across space yet
So I stand on top of my plane
I look to the sky.
Hoping to never die
But the music makes me cry
And the clouds make me high