I am running ‘long the thirsty land
Having shut the helmet on my head;
My swift “Phantom”’s like an arrow
With its wings so widely spread;
Roaring, it is climbing straight ahead.
Far away I see a blueish land:
Devastating it I’d feel so sad.
‘Tis a pity you can’t see it:
My long way is rather hard;
My swift “Phantom”’s rushing eastwards, bud.
Now I’m turning left, ground’s on the bow;
Not a pilot, I’m a gunman now.
I am pressing the right button -
I take aim, and missiles cut down -
I am making just another run.
In the sky I see a line, it’s white.
Oh my God, my “Phantom”’s losing height!
Panic spring’s my only rescue,
Cords are taut—a picturesque view;
Heart in mouth, I’m spinning down awry.
At the moment when I hit the ground
I heard someone’s bellowing around.
Yellow faces – Vietnamese glee’s
Yelling like ferocious grizzlies.
I fell down without making a sound.
Yet again I stomp on this damned land
Having no more helmet on my head.
Soldiers poke me with the barrels
Of their guns, my eye is wary:
I am hanging by a single thread.
“Who’s the pilot that has cut me down?” -
Asking Vietnamese, I gave my tongue.
And the chief interrogator
Told me a preposterous matter:
“That was our brave pilot Lee Xi Tsin”.
Find another bullshit to declare!
I’ve distinctly heard this on the air:
“Kolya, rush, and I will mix it!”
“Vanya, fire, I‘ll get your six, kid!”
Russian Vanya made my “Phantom” flare.
Texas, my sweet home, it’s far away.
Mom and Dad are there, they’re doomed to wait.
My swift “Phantom”’s blown up quickly
In the sky that’s blue so deeply.
I will never see them all again.