Goering’s on the phone from Freiburg,
says Willie’s done quite a job,
Hitler’s on the phone from Berlin,
says I’m gonna make you a star,
my Captain von Ondine here’s your next patrol,
a flight of English bombers across the canal,
after 12, they’ll all be here,
I think you know the job.
They hung there dependent from the sky,
like some heavy metal fruit,
these bombers ripened,
ready to tilt,
must these Englishmen live that I might die,
must these Englishmen live that I might die.
In a G-load disaster from the rate of climb,
sometimes I’d faint and be lost to our side,
but there’s no reward for failure, but death,
so watch me in mirrors keep me on the glide path,
get me through this radar no I cannot fail,
when my great silver slugs are eager to feed,
I can’t fail, no, not now,
when 25 bombers wait ripe.
Me-262 prince of turbo jets,
Junkers Jumo 004,
blasts from clustered R4M quartets in my snout,
and see these English planes go burn,
well you’ll be my witness how red were the skies,
when the Fortresses flew for the very last time,
it was dark over Westphalia,
in April of ’45.
http://allmusic.com/cg/x.dll?UID=7:30:21|AM&p=amg&sql=A2154 ------------------
Oblt. jochen 'Stern von Afrika' 2./ Jagdgeschwader 27 'Afrika'
[This message has been edited by Jochen (edited 09-23-1999).]
