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Flying Scotsman


Am a
For launch,
Fuelled by  
With a single
Astronaut, He
Is tired of his
Legend, he is
Weary of his
Crown, And so
We schemed
Together to
Escape this
 Melancholy town,
The countdown it
Has started, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,
And before anyone has
Noticed we are reaching for
 The sun, the tourists run for
 Cover, their cameras scatter
On the ground, as we gradually
 Lift off in a cacophony of sound,
The young they stare in wonder, as
 We lift up to the sky, for no one can
 Believe, that such a monument can fly,
With my buttresses as boosters, and my
Spire as my cone, we break free from gravity,
 And soon we are alone, who knows when we’ll
Return, as we pass beyond the moon, but we have
Tasted freedom, and I know it won’t be soon, for I
Am a Gothic rocket, we are driven by his dreams, as
We stretch beyond the stars, which pass in ceaseless
Streams, beyond the Milky Way towards the edge of
Time, as the man at the controls, selects a boundless line,
So if in years ahead, you come upon our empty site, look
Up towards the heavens, and imagine never-ending flight.


Contact Me


T- 123-456-7890

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