your head northfollow lines on the canvas
the sky is too big to fit through my eyes
borrowed blue for a while
silver etches
windows in the sand
take my hand
i'm the hangar
you're the plane
follow instincts
like roadsigns on a map with no markings
reflections cut the air in two
shaking hands at right angles to a wheel
ever left the memory of a summer at an airport stand?
take my hand
i'm the hangar
you're the plane
you do all the miles
i wait on the ground for you
swimming
your name has less letters in it every time i see you 
sometimes your altitude
gets me down
ten seconds to come home
but you always take the long way
sunshine makes a smoother land
take my hand
i'm the hangar
your'e the plane