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.
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