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Out of the Blue

Darkening shadows climb from the east

A gathering storm, sent by the beast

Far from our sight the darkened birds gather

Then turning North, to the land of our Fathers

In a little lonely shack

High upon an empty hill

Sits a man, wearing blue

Let us, for now, just call him Bill

Every morning at five am

His head is gazing at a screen

Watch for the tell tale lines

Denoting the darkness, as yet unseen

Darker, darker, thundercloud night

Relentlessly forward and crossing the sea

If it wasn't so evil, it would be amazing to all

Old Bill he is watching, beyond the sun

Deciding it's time, to make that call

The darkness keeps moving, horrendously slow

The escorts are turning, fuel getting low

The timing is perfect, for Odin to show

His choices to his Valkyries

Out of the Blue, the Spitfires came

Fiery wings bringers of death

Darkness was turning, panic and shame

Bombs being dropped on innocent fields

Back in his hut, out of sight of it all

Bill completed his daily glare

Ever reliant to say what was there

A hero forgotten? Nah, he foes not care

His words brought them Out of the Blue

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