Ghost in a Spitfire

Johnny flies over the white cliffs of Dover

Clutching white heather wrapped in a letter

The streets of London now have turnstiles underground

But it's hard to count the crowd or hear a heart pound

Darkness shields the fire from the ground

A flash of steel and I think I'm going down

Think I'm going down

Ghost in a Spitfire there's no machine gun fire

But there's a victory rule to say we're coming home

This bird's learned to fly across the morning tide

Prisoner of the northern side with a hurricane lullaby

Darkness shields the fire from the ground

A flash of steel and I think I'm going down

I think I'm going down