Composed by Ric Albano
between November 1987 and April 2013
As we march along this corridor of death
Sharpened projectiles aimed towards our necks
We spot the leather-clad rock legend
Standing in the street
No longer does he try to mask his deep disgrace
Pure animosity towards the human race
The day has come when he will surely
Be brought down in defeat
Beneath the multi layered ice
Crushed by a thousand rays of light
We’ll have our turn
The hillside town that slowly drowns
In sorrow as its bus is overturned
The search for somewhere safe to sleep
A castle donned with modern keep
Perfect Sunday turns to distress for native kin
Confusion reigns in circles deep within
Drove all night long just to try and get to here
Traversed a gauntlet fraught with mystery and fear
At times I wondered if we’d ever even make it back alive
But we survived
The hero’s presence perpetrated quite the fuss
But in the end he would just smile and point at us
Eleven years to the day since we went on that drive
Without a care towards the freeze
Sailing upon the steel breeze
The swan will dive in perfect graceful majesty
The will to stay alive
The child is interviewed on the television
For the sake of dwellers of those faraway mountains
A thousand miles across the heart of America
Just what were we doing in the den our nemesis?
Just who were we fooling?
Did the pride get the best of us?
Toothless old man telling shallow old stories of his cross-eyed visions
A young birdman waxing philosophical on motives of our mission
Our contrition is not forthcoming and we refuse to be intimidated by –
The sea of yellow rotors spinning rapidly beneath our position
Now this is real and we shall close the deal among this awesome vision
Kudos offered grudgingly underneath the breath
As we return back up the corridor of death
We gawk in mystery,
Glass pirates shattered right there in their seats
The winter heat out there in the streets…
© 1987-2013 Cygnus Wave Records. All Rights Reserved.
