There's just
Wilbur and wrong.
My time machine
my River lovely Song
my TARDIS lands
socks underneath
dead witches in grief
off cliffs some beach
push Wright brother each
and save whole planet,
War
no planes
no rockets
no Nazis in pockets
no bombs ever dropped
no gasses death propped
The sin of flight
for those below.
Lest I bring up mad weather
setting Nature right
the Hurricanes in tow.
Poor us not flying.
Billions not dying.
Take a stagecoach.
Comfy porthole, waves.
Leave us birds alone.
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