Tribute To "Fortune" Dream Still Flying

Dreams, what's that rumbling, dreams, who are flying freely in the sky. Circling, subduction, rising, loop, roll, and dazzle. Dreams within reach of the clouds are still tender around, like eating cotton candy that year, so white, soft, touch to open, but I don't want to go. Suddenly, the sky turned, in the view of the Earth is getting closer. Oh! This is a dream, I no longer have to fly.

That year we were flying, carrying helmets, walking in the road leading to the lounge, aircraft, neatly arrayed behind him, celebrated another successful landing. Breezes blow across the face, dripping sweat from his brow tell of loyalty to the infinite blue sky.