I wrote this after listening to the music from, Miami Vice, one night in the early eighties.

As he arose through the midst of thy grey skies upon silver wings of armour, a man in the flying machine, yet so powerful and unseen. A fighter pilot, a warrior,'tis be second to none. Though unseen in the thundered skies, he is very keen, yet patient as thy heavenly dove. With spirit in his eyes, yet strong and gentle, he flies toward thy future, vanishes within thy past, yet destined on thy present and narrow flight path, with none to fear other than God. Thy sun shall be darkened, the moon to blood. The stars will fall till there be no more to see, yet thy Lords Pilot, fearless of flight, still travels onward with thy book of life. He's thy Lords last star fighter of the end time war. Yet alone, he's never lonely. Then with the bright firey glow of his afterburners, he's but a trace in the night. Copyright 2001