There was a time when I used to wear
my heart on my hair.
To be more exact, on a hairpin
pinned to my hair,
but that was a long time ago,
before I learned all I now know.
I remember how you used to reach
for the moon every night, and you’d cry
because you couldn’t snatch it away from the sky.
I don’t know if you ever learned that the moon is not up for grabs
or is it just that you’ve stopped keeping tabs…
To know your thoughts, I’d give a penny,
do tell please, was it one moonrise too many?
Once this abandoned piece of junk broke ground
flying at the speed of sound.
A mighty sonic flying machine
iron beast soaring the skies
now all that remains is a skeleton,
a testament to its own demise.
Photo manipulation by Christophe Huet
One thought on “It Used To Fly”
Love the imagery of the final stanza, and the pic, and symbolism of the first, good stuff, Roger Waters like.