Operation Orange Chicken

this is a luesy pop song, it should be up tempo, very hooky and very commercial sounding

V5.5

(Verse 1)
The radar’s screaming, the sirens are wailing
The brass is sweating, the plan is failing
He checked his watch and he checked the door
He wasn’t feeling courageous anymore
With a frantic shuffle and a nervous grin
He ditched his suit and he shed his skin
Slipped past the guards in the dark of the night
While everyone else was preparing for the fight!
(Chorus)
Oh, it’s Operation Orange Chicken, baby
Running for the hills when the heat gets hazy
Left the staff, the press, and the infantry crew
In a target-locked jet painted red, white, and blue
He’s riding in a catering truck, hiding his face
Leaving all his friends in a dangerous place
Yeah, that’s his style, yeah, that’s his trick
Operation Orange Chicken, you make me sick!
(Verse 2)
He snuck in the back where the egg rolls sit
While the engines roared, he didn’t give a whit
About the pilot, the soldiers, the folks in the aisle
He was miles away in a state of denial
A cargo plane waiting on a dark runway strip
He’s sipping champagne on a coward’s trip
They’re holding the line while he’s flying away
Just another heavy price that the people have to pay!
(Chorus)
Oh, it’s Operation Orange Chicken, baby
Running for the hills when the heat gets hazy
Left the staff, the press, and the infantry crew
In a target-locked jet painted red, white, and blue
He’s riding in a catering truck, hiding his face
Leaving all his friends in a dangerous place
Yeah, that’s his style, yeah, that’s his trick
Operation Orange Chicken, you make me sick!
(Bridge)
Golden feathers and a hollow heart
Falling apart right from the start
He traded his honor for a flight in the dark
Leaving a fire without even a spark!
(Guitar Solo - Up-tempo, bluesy, punchy and bright)
(Chorus)
Oh, it’s Operation Orange Chicken, baby
Running for the hills when the heat gets hazy
Left the staff, the press, and the infantry crew
In a target-locked jet painted red, white, and blue
He’s riding in a catering truck, hiding his face
Leaving all his friends in a dangerous place
Yeah, that’s his style, yeah, that’s his trick
Operation Orange Chicken, you make me sick!
(Outro)
Yeah, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s out of the fry
With a grease-stained soul in the middle of the sky
Operation Orange Chicken…
(Clap, clap)
Yeah, run away!
Operation Orange Chicken!

2298/7500

(Verse 1) The radar’s screaming, the sirens are wailing The brass is sweating, the plan is failing He checked his watch and he checked the door He wasn’t feeling courageous anymore With a frantic shuffle and a nervous grin He ditched his suit and he shed his skin Slipped past the guards in the dark of the night While everyone else was preparing for the fight! (Chorus) Oh, it’s Operation Orange Chicken, baby Running for the hills when the heat gets hazy Left the staff, the press, and the infantry crew In a target-locked jet painted red, white, and blue He’s riding in a catering truck, hiding his face Leaving all his friends in a dangerous place Yeah, that’s his style, yeah, that’s his trick Operation Orange Chicken, you make me sick! (Verse 2) He snuck in the back where the egg rolls sit While the engines roared, he didn’t give a whit About the pilot, the soldiers, the folks in the aisle He was miles away in a state of denial A cargo plane waiting on a dark runway strip He’s sipping champagne on a coward’s trip They’re holding the line while he’s flying away Just another heavy price that the people have to pay! (Chorus) Oh, it’s Operation Orange Chicken, baby Running for the hills when the heat gets hazy Left the staff, the press, and the infantry crew In a target-locked jet painted red, white, and blue He’s riding in a catering truck, hiding his face Leaving all his friends in a dangerous place Yeah, that’s his style, yeah, that’s his trick Operation Orange Chicken, you make me sick! (Bridge) Golden feathers and a hollow heart Falling apart right from the start He traded his honor for a flight in the dark Leaving a fire without even a spark! (Guitar Solo - Up-tempo, bluesy, punchy and bright) (Chorus) Oh, it’s Operation Orange Chicken, baby Running for the hills when the heat gets hazy Left the staff, the press, and the infantry crew In a target-locked jet painted red, white, and blue He’s riding in a catering truck, hiding his face Leaving all his friends in a dangerous place Yeah, that’s his style, yeah, that’s his trick Operation Orange Chicken, you make me sick! (Outro) Yeah, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s out of the fry With a grease-stained soul in the middle of the sky Operation Orange Chicken… (Clap, clap) Yeah, run away! Operation Orange Chicken!

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