The Ghost of Curtis LeMay

I could smell that stogie,
Coming down the hall,
Bomb me back to the stone age,
Knock me up against the wall,
Hit my desk like a stick of bombs,
Wind blows my papers around.
Chill of Ice, A Daytime nightmare,
The ghost of Curtis Lemay,
The Ghost of Curtis Lemay.

Smell of congealed old time movies,
Art Bell at 2 a.m.,
Need to eat, three times a week,
This guy never leaves me alone,
Little gray bodies, stacked like cordwood,
Smoking gun in the Colonel's cabinet.
Then like the wind,
He come back again,
Groom Lake will never be the same...

I could smell that stogie,
Coming down the hall,
Bomb me back to the stone age,
Knock me up against the wall,
Hit my desk like a stick of bombs,
Wind blows my papers around.
Chill of Ice, A Daytime nightmare,
The ghost of Curtis Lemay,
The Ghost of Curtis Lemay.

Ace of spades in Mirror shades.
Truth is harder to believe than fiction,
Security at an all time high,
The Enemy knows our every move,
Then like the wind,
He come back again,
The Air Force isn't what it used to be...