helmet on, 
a deep breath in, 
a glance upon the sky. 
Would we be brave enough 
to face the wind? 
To fly? 

No one to stop us now, 
just Charlie Jones and I. 
With nothing but these flimsy wings, 
did we dream a foolish thing, 
to be the men who fly? 

Up we flew, 
our engines burning. 
Up we flew 
to touch the sky. 
Up we flew 
with a desperate yearning. 
Up we flew, 
prepared to die ... 
Brothers on wing, 
in skies, together; 
far from Earth, 
just Charlie and I. 

Up in the air 
the radio screams, 
it's Charlie in distress. 
"bandit's shot my wing! 
I've had it now, 
I'm going West ... 
But know these years with you, 
I've served them all with pride. 
I know that all good flights must end; 
I'm glad my last was with you, my friend. 
It's been to short a ride ... " 

Down he went, 
his engines burning. 
Down he went 
from out of the sky. 
Down he went 
in a tailspin, turning. 
Down he went, 
prepared to die. 

Up we'd gone 
in the skies together. 
Up we'd gone 
with no question why. 
Up we'd gone 
for a soldier's duty, 
for a country we could not deny. 
brother lost in a blaze of glory, 
Far from earth. 
Charlie Jones, farewell 
and goodbye.