Felt my heart set free
as my Banshee cleared the Essex's iron deck
Punched it hard and up over the Yalu
Twin J34’s screaming
Napalm for breakfast
yet mig stew is what i hungered for most
It’s great to help the guys on the ground
the punch bowl, heartbreak ridge
hunt’em down and drop that bad shit
Then glide on the hill tops huntin tanks on the way
One fine day like gifts given to me
looked down and what did i see?
six bandits lined up in a row
Had them all to myself just cruising alone
Thank you dear Lord i say
for these mig 15’s and your loving grace

Danced with the SAMs over hanoi
My Thunderchief like a rocket on a twisted rail of iron
The J75 opened up and roaring like a lion
That sudden shock to my soul
like a new born baby forced into the cold world
Been jolted awake by a water drop
on a leaf of the jungle bush at night
Its impact in my nightmare like a B52 strike
The chop chop of that jolly green
beating heart in tune with mine
The hand of God to pull me back
from death’s grip one more time

Dog fight over the Med
my Tomcat banking hard
Twin TF30’s running red
Turning into the fight where most men fear to tread
My blood screaming to survive as i tone up and fire
A sidewinder sent to the ass of my enemy
mig 23’s splashed into the sea
Turn and sweep my wings back
Throttled up to zone 5
Kick from the afterburners felt good to be alive
Skimming across the deep blue at mach 1.7
Screaming for the mother ship’s deck
like an angel flying straight into heaven

Then there was that great day i really can’t talk about
Sierra hotel in a place still classified
When the swarm hit my Eagle
The twin F100’s spurred to squall
Fangs out all the way twisting and turning in the fur ball
Over mugs of beer we always chanted
“a mig on your six is better than no mig at all”
And that day the skies kept giving the gift of agile steel
Men with iron hands and foolish wills
The odds were way out of whack
mig soup the recipe of the day
Every true fighter pilot likes it that way

Many of the other boys were wild and free
being a Christian this did not sit well with me
Some pilots sought out the female score
I would not trade my soul for the heart of a whore
I knew it was God that kept me alive in the skies
the best wingman of them all

I don’t know why i flew so long hell bent for the sun
craving that mach 2.2 high angle run
Or why it seemed that the more the odds were against me
the more i liked it
To pull back on the stick
and feel the earths core pull at my blood
Maybe I was wild and crazy
yet just in control enough to cut the line between winner and loser
Service to the country was just an excuse to hunt and run
Could be it was the only way i knew my soul was still alive
feeling it hurt the way it did pulling G’s with blood shot eyes
Yes a strong sense of duty can make a man see things through
And many talk of blind patriotism, but i know better than that
Wolves don’t just hunt to feed the family

These days find me on my back porch watching the sun set
skies deep red and calling out to me
A distant thunder storm teasing with its sonic boom
And still I know the cold war has grown cold
and this cold warrior is growing old
Yet i still yearn to feel that rush and kick
20mm shells buzzing
as I throttle up and bank the stick