Fields of France

His flying jacket still has her perfume

Memories of the night

Play across his mind

High above the fields of France

A single biplane in a clear blue sky

1917, no enemy was seen

High above the fields of France

Oh she looks

But there's nothing to see

Still she looks

Saying "Come back for me"

He tells her "Just remember me this way

Here am I more true

Than anything I do

High above the fields of France"

Oh she looks

But he'll never come back

And the letter that came

Was bordered in black

She'll find somebody else

But not forget

Leaving her regrets

Like vapor trails of jets

High above the fields of France

High above the fields of France