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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