Falling Aeroplanes - Darren Hanlon

Boy threw his guitar down and started beating his brow

No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t justify

All a waste of time spent inventing words and rhyme

As the stars and the planets and the clock did laps

You see making up songs is for losers

I should build something she uses

Like a box or a bed or cupboards or shelves

'Cause songs are made of air, they can’t be any use to her

Better off try’na catch falling aeroplanes

Then girl said:

'Boy don’t be so stupid, boy don’t be so daft

You’re not even right by half

And although you say your songs are fundamentally air

There’s also thousands of vibrations that stimulate the ear

In such a way that whenever I hear them

They always make me smile

They’re just as tactile as a box or a bed or cupboards or shelves

So boy now stop your moping, cursing and no hoping

And get back in the saddle.'

While she was still speaking

Towards his feet reaching, where lay his guitar

His head was swimming in an alphabet

Soup letters swirled and words formed in his heart

He said:

'I'm gonna build a song for us

With four verses and a chorus

On real estate your words inspired

And there we’ll live rent-free

Sleep on beds of melody

And leave the key-change with the seasons.'

And so that song he built was hers

With a chorus and four verse

And she woke to find him finally asleep