晨霧吻過舊街燈，我揣著未寫完的昨夜

把嘆息折成紙船，放進(jìn)東流的水

讓失敗的指紋，在掌心長(zhǎng)出新的山脈

當(dāng)?shù)谝话嗟罔F呼嘯，像替我按下了重啟鍵

我戴上耳機(jī)，心跳是未命名的節(jié)拍

此刻空白，正是世界給我的回信

把昨天的名字撕下，貼一顆更亮的星

I’m starting over，風(fēng)替我翻頁

腳印雖歪斜，卻指向太陽的方向

讓每一次跌倒，都開出野花的聲響

Sketch Plane, ink the sky in cobalt flame,

I draw my name across a cloud that never learned to rain.

Propeller heart keeps stuttering your syllables in blue,

Every line I pull becomes a runway back to you.

Fold the horizon like a letter I can’t send,

Rudder whispers “hold her,” but the paper never bends.

I’m tracing ghosted futures on a fuselage of night,

Sketch Plane, stay a little—let the dawn believe in flight.