Enola Gay

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Look out, look out from your 
schoolroom window!
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Look up, young children, from your 
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play!
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Wave your hand at the shining 
airplane,
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Such a beautiful sight is Enola Gay.

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It's many a mile, from the Utah 
desert
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To Tinian Island far away,
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Standing guard, by the barb-wire 
fences
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That hide the secret of Enola Gay.

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High above the clouds in the sunlit 
silence,
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So peaceful here, I'd like to stay.
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There's many a pilot who'd swap his 
pension
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For a chance to fly Enola Gay.

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What is that sound high above my 
city?
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I rush outside and search the sky.
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Now we are running to find the 
shelters,
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Hearing sirens start to cry.

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What will I say when my children ask
 me,
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Where was I flying up on that day?
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With trembling voice I gave the 
order
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To the bombardier of Enola Gay.

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Look out, look out from your 
schoolroom window;
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Look up, young children, from your 
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play.
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Your bright young eyes will turn to 
ashes
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In the blinding light of Enola Gay.

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I turn to see the fireball rising.
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"My God, My God," all I can say.
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I hear a voice within me crying,
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"My mother's name was Enola Gay."

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Look out, look out from your 
schoolroom window;
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Look up, young children, from your 
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play.
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Oh, when you see the warplanes 
flying,
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Each one is named Enola Gay.