Winding up my engines
Com' on fill my noise
Listen to them howl and growl
I'm all lit up
Here I go again
Two feet on the brakes
One hand on the gas
Guys on the front screaming for help
Being begged to catch and go
Its just a ball of dirt under my feet
Zero to two at 185
Jumping off the deck
A Warthog on the loose
Feeling my way through the darkness
Searching for a radio call
Rising up to catch hell
A Knight of the air
Looking forward to the fight
I'm the one, its automatic
You're the kinda friend that begs me
Only when you're breaking
Riding the highway to hell in
Triple A lights my path up
Coming in hot, one away, two away
Shells ravage my plane
I'm on fire and never coming back
As I become the midnight sun
Like the missile in my wing
I'm going down, down, down
Could have been the Jim Beam
Could have been the Wild fling
I stumbled on a broken dream.
There's something about this, distant, simulated warfare that is quite disconcerting to me. While powerful and effective, it's like a video game where the other side always loses. air power seems to rule these days.
Other than that, one hell of a poem!
Ron