Our childhood's prime game;
Creating a paper plane.
Making it fly high,
But it never reached the sky.

We would continue to raise the bar,
But still we wouldn't get very far.
We would trust a redesign,
But never anything different from our own design.

We would work soley for ourselves;
To keep the success to ourselves.
We would spend all day redesigning a paper plane,
But never on redesigning our life's shame.

We live for a paper plane
And its thrill - day by day.
We would accept our life's flaws,
But never our paper plane's flaws.

We would live for irrelevant people and objects,
But never for our own salvation.
We would live with a self-opinionated attitude,
But why do we now live with our opinion based on that of the world?

We live like a paper plane;
Flying high, just to be redesigned.
The world never helps us stay sane
As we're always seen as a failed design.