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We built a kite one Sunday noon,
Painted wings to catch the moon.
We took it out where the wires ran,
But it caught on the pole before it began.
We said we'd climb to cut it down,
But the weeks went by and we stayed in town.
The wire rusted and the weather turned,
And the kite became a weight we'd earned.
A kite on the telephone line,
It never got the chance to climb.
That weight is still resting on my chest,
Like the plan that never passed the test.
A kite on the telephone line,
It never got the chance to climb.
I keep a drawing of the tangled thread,
And the color of the words we never said.
We said we'd climb to cut it down,
But the weeks went by and we stayed in town.
The wire rusted and the weather turned,
And the kite became a weight we'd earned.
A kite on the telephone line,
It never got the chance to climb.
That weight is still resting on my chest,
Like the plan that never passed the test.
A kite on the telephone line,
It never got the chance to climb.
I keep a drawing of the tangled thread,
And the color of the words we never said.
