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Goering's on the phone from Freiburg |
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Says Willie's done quite a job |
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Hitler's on the phone from Berlin |
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Says I'm gonna make you a star |
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My Captain Von Ondine is your next patrol |
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A flight of English bombers across the canal |
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After twelve they'll all be here |
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I think you know the job |
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They hung there dependant from the sky |
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Like some heavy metal fruit |
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These bombers are ripe and ready to tilt |
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Must these Englishmen live that I might die |
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Must they live that I might die |
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In a G-load disaster from the rate of climb |
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Sometimes I'd faint and be lost to our side |
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But there's no reward for failure - but death |
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So watch me in mirrors keep in the glidepath |
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Get me through these radars, no, I cannot fail |
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While my great silver slugs are eager to feed |
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I can't fail - No, not now |
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When twenty five bombers wait ripe |
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They hung there dependant from the sky |
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Like some heavy metal fruit |
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These bombers are ripe and ready to tilt |
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Must these Englishmen live that I might die |
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Must they live that I might die |
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ME-262 prince of turbojet |
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Junker's Jumo 004 |
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Blasts from clustered R4M quartets in my snout |
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And see these English planes go burn |
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Well, you be my witness, how red were the skies |
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When the fortresses flew for the very last time |
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It was dark over Westphalia |
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In April of '45 |
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They hung there dependant from the sky |
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Like some heavy metal fruit |
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These bombers are ripe and ready to tilt |
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Must these Englishmen live that I might die |
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Must they live that I might die |
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Must these Englishmen live that I might die... |
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Junker's Jumo 004 bombers at 12 o'clock high |
