A conundrum when you discover a craft so conflagrant bright that holds no answer as to why there's absence of light
Smoke-stained goggles, earhart canary in the carolina night
And when she lifted off, it reassured my terminal fear of flight
I never expected the slightest of turbulence
Set sail over the skies you mighty baron,
And cast ripples to the west on bended knee
In perfect smokescreen cursive,
I look up to find these words so amorously scrawled along The cloudy shimmer tide: i know you can still hear me,
Even though you're not near me