Late Home Tonight, Pt. 1

Standing at the window, the farmer’s wife in Oxfordshire
Glances at the clock. It’s nearly time for tea
She doesn’t see the Phantom in the hedgerow dip its wing
Doesn’t hear the engine sing…
But in the cockpit’s techno glow, behind the Ray-ban shine
A kid from Cleveland, in the comfort of routine, scans his dials and smiles
Secure in the beauty of military life
There is no right nor wrong, only tin cans and Cordite and white cliffs and blue skies and flight…
The beauty of military life, no questions, only orders and flight… only flight…
What a beautiful sight in this wild blue dream!
The eternal child leafs through his war magazines
And his kind Uncle Sam feeds ten trillion in change
Into the total entertainment combat video game
And up here in the stands the fans are going wild
As the cheerleaders flip and you wiggle your hip
And we all like the bit when you take the jeans from the refrigerator
And then the bad guy gets hit
And were you struck by the satisfying way the swimsuit sticks to her skin?
Like BB gun days, when knives pierce Autumn leaves
But that’s okay, see the children bleed
It’ll look great on the T.V.
And in Tripoli another ordinary wife stares at the dripping tap her old man hadn’t time to fix
Too busy mixing politics and rhythm in the street below