Jett Eagle, Master of the Shredded Skies

[Jet Engine Spool-Up] [Feedback Rising] [Lead Guitar Dive-Bomb] [Intro] Tower says we're cleared to go. Strap yourselves in. Jett's got a solo. [Verse 1] He doesn't walk into the room. He makes a fucking entrance. Doesn't play a simple chord When thirty notes make better sense. Ask him for a little rhythm. Something tasteful. Something light. He'll bend one note into the stratosphere And hold the bastard there all night. [Pre-Chorus] Volume up. Visor down. Six strings screaming. Leave the ground. You wanted twenty seconds? Brother... JETT JUST FILED A FLIGHT PLAN! [Chorus] JETT EAGLE! MASTER OF THE SHREDDED SKIES! Fingers burning down the fretboard! Afterburners open wide! JETT EAGLE! WATCH THAT BLUE-HAIRED BASTARD FLY! Every solo needs a solo WHEN YOU'RE MASTER OF THE SHREDDED SKIES! [Guitar Solo] [Verse 2] Piney says, "Just play the song." Jett says, "That's what I'm doing." Piney says, "We're in the fucking verse." Jett says, "Sounds like room for improving." Rocky locks into the pocket. Bosun counts them back to four. Coasty's waiting for his entrance. Zeek has heard this shit before. [Pre-Chorus] Jett looks down. The band looks back. One raised eyebrow. That's the attack. Piney points directly at him. "DO NOT FUCKING—" [Guitar Solo] [Chorus] JETT EAGLE! MASTER OF THE SHREDDED SKIES! Fingers burning down the fretboard! Afterburners open wide! JETT EAGLE! WATCH THAT BLUE-HAIRED BASTARD FLY! Every solo needs a solo WHEN YOU'RE MASTER OF THE SHREDDED SKIES! [Verse 3] He'll tell you tone is everything. Then bring twelve effects along. He'll spend an hour dialing in The perfect sound for one damn song. Pedalboard looks like a cockpit. Every switch has something planned. Nobody knows what half them do. Jett understands. Probably. [Pre-Chorus] Kick the boost. Pull some Gs. Sweep the neck. Ignore the pleas. Piney screams, "WE HAVE FIVE MORE SONGS!" Jett says, "Cool. Then I've got five more solos." [Extended Guitar Solo] [Bridge] Fast ain't everything. Jett knows that. Sometimes one note says it all. Let it hang above the silence. Let it rise. Then let it fall. For one moment, No showing off. No tricks. No need to race. Just six strings And one perfect note Hanging somewhere out in space. ... Then he taps the fucking fretboard. Of course he does. [Final Guitar Solo] [Final Chorus] JETT EAGLE! MASTER OF THE SHREDDED SKIES! Fretboard smoking! Speakers shaking! Watch that motherfucker fly! JETT EAGLE! NO SUCH THING AS TOO DAMN HIGH! If the song has room for six more notes... HE'LL SOMEHOW FIT IN NINETY-FIVE! JETT EAGLE! LIGHT THE AMPS AND LET 'EM ROAR! You thought the solo ended? FUCK YOU! HERE'S ANOTHER TWENTY MORE! [Outro Guitar Solo] [Band Stops] [Guitar Continues] Piney: "Jett." [Guitar Continues] "JETT." [One Final Guitar Squeal] ... Jett: "What?"