in a war when you were youngntwenty-one and a flying gunnnow you deal a confusing pairnfascination and despairnwith the tale you have to tellnnnow the plane is in the parknno more maneuvers in the darknthere are birds inside the wingsnthere are things I’ll never seenand it’s hard to tell butnnalthough I know it’s truenI don’t want to picture younIn the Lancaster bombernIn the Lancaster bombernIn a Lancaster bomber, ohnnYou were down beyond the pairnAnd I had to get out of therenGet a little country airnBut there was no country anywherenThey say dreams come true but nightmares, toonnAnd although I know it’s truenI don’t want to picture younIn a Lancaster bombernIn a Lancaster bombernIn a Lancaster bombernnWhen I ride my bike in the springnI will rest in the shade of a wingnOf a Lancaster bombernIn the Lancaster bombernIn the Lancaster bomber, ohnnAlthough I know it’s truenI don’t like to picture younIn the Lancaster bombernIn a Lancaster bombernIn a Lancaster bombernn