Fighter sweep over boiling seas, deep beyond enemy lines
The wingman screams in the radio "Four Zeros on our nine!"
Ghost riders in the sky, facing them
Guiding my crosshair chasing white wings

Gravity off! Warbirds are tearing up the sky
Stuck between the earth below and the heavens up above
Gravity off! You make one wrong move you die
Breathing smoke, engine's burning, time to say goodbye

Rolling over to get behind, the world's fading to black
All my comrades dead or fleeing, no one's got my back.
hold my breath, time slows down, the air ignites
guiding my crosshair piercing white wings

He's falling down, but none of us is going home...

No feeling of triumph, zeros dive out from the sun
deadly burst of silver rain, there is nowhere to run
breathing smoke, controls gone, desparately
Guiding my crosshair chased by white wings

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