紙飛機(jī)劃過(guò)天際線(xiàn)

素描的云端藏著誰(shuí)的心愿

鉛筆屑落滿(mǎn)窗臺(tái)邊

你的側(cè)臉是我最?lèi)?ài)的畫(huà)面

橡皮擦不掉的夏天

蟬鳴聲里你眨著眼

我把心事折成紙鳶

飛向你所在的那個(gè)遠(yuǎn)點(diǎn)

素描本上最后一頁(yè)

畫(huà)著你還沒(méi)說(shuō)完的再見(jiàn)

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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.