THE PILOTS OF SALAMANDER

The Pilots of Salamander Sixty five days I lived my life Duty called and all the knives that followed, A dirty Salamander trilogy became its only tragedy Amongst the feathers of its flight. Tobruk you say, I say not Farrimond would say too hot Jeddah is the place to be To lose ones own insanity. No, my choice is Salamander and its cities three All I needed nestled there, chirping out their ignomy. Empty eyes and empty tongue Compact days and nights so long Breathe in delight and out your hate Let no-one enter the other gate Give volume to your breach and never pander To the demonic slaves of Salamander.