The place never really had the chance to get off the ground
As it was the ground to begin
We just stood there kicking tires:
We knew it wouldn't fly
Nor would it wash
The time wasn't ripe
So we stood there kicking tires
In its dirty state, nothing can be done
Let's wash our hands, call it a night:
Sanctuary
Some think the place a castle in the air...
A small gust of wind: out of sight, out of mind
I've looked for a proper allusion to air barriers:
Obstructing diffusion
Every nail, every brick, every gnashed thumb
Another step away from sanctuary