One day you'll see him sitting at a bar.
He's the one drinking whiskey and smoking a cigar.

Pull up a chair and offer him a drink.
It's a good day, when he'll tell you exactly what he 
thinks.

About this country, and what it's doing wrong.
And for another drink he might sing you a song.

He's a hard hearted bastard of a day long gone by.
A mix of emotion and laughter in his eye.
A worn out junkie on adrenaline and speed.
A fighter pilot, he's the last of the breed.

He'll tell stories, of how we fought the war.
Using words and phrases that you've never heard before.

He'll talk of death as if it were alive.
Then speak of good friends and good times, as he looks 
up to the sky.

Then tell a joke, that no man should ever tell.
It don't bother him cause he's seen both, heaven and 
hell.

He's a hard hearted bastard of a day long gone by.
A mix of emotion and laughter in his eye.
A worn out junkie on adrenaline and speed.
A fighter pilot, he's the last of the breed.
A fighter pilot, he's the last of the breed.

Yeah he's a hard hearted bastard of a day long gone by.
A mix of emotion and laughter in his eye.
A worn out junkie on adrenaline and speed.
A fighter pilot, he's the last of the breed.
A fighter pilot, he's the last of the breed.