Written for Colby, Phil, Josh, Hunter, and KP — the Texas boys who showed up at USAFA in the summer of 2004, survived Beast Week, lost half their weekends to restriction, ran the Lightning Van, earned their prop and wings at Pinnacle, and shook the President's hand at Falcon Stadium on May 28, 2008.
And for Roger, Rick, Mark, and Wide-A-Men — the cowboy from Mizzourah whose name we'll spell however he wants someday. The rest of the family. Forty bars of song. Twenty years of stories.
Class of Oh-Eight, raise it up.
The lyrics
Read along.
Verse 1Two thousand four, that Colorado heat
Forty-one days of dust beneath our feet
Stand up straight, shave it down
Doolies running till they hit the ground
Restriction killed half our weekends dead
We found our way to a Ragweed show instead
Lightning Van runs and a crooked grin
Every Monday we'd do it again
ChorusHere's to the Class of Oh-Eight
Boys who learned to fly before they learned to wait
We were Falcon sky and Lake Travis blue
Shiner Bock and a buddy who'd take the fall for you
We didn't know it then, but those were the best of days
Now the years roll by, but the feeling stays
Raise it high, raise it tall, drink it all the way
Here's to the Class of Oh-Eight
Verse 2Phil swore he did The P, swore on his life
Half of us lied, the other half twice
Prop-and-wings up at Pinnacle high
Mitch's at midnight, Form Ten in the morning sky
Northgate summer, Travis sun
Broadmoor lit up when the diplomas were done
Kyle Park played private till the lights went down
Bush shook our hands and the Thunderbirds made the sound
Verse 3Colby flies the C-17 past the morning star
Phil and Josh — his brothers from the very start
Phil chased pretty faces till the Aggie ring came down
Now he wears scrubs in maroon, College Station bound
Josh wears the Needham name like it's carved in Texas stone
Best friend Colby ever made — well, him and Phil tied for it
KP holds Denver down, a Shiner in his hand
Out-drank the whole damn barracks — son of a gun still can
Roger flies the drones in circles where the runways disappear
BridgeWide-A-Men swore Mizzourah grew him cowboy true
Hat brim never bent, boots a shinier shade of new
Closest he ever came to a cattle drive
Was the steakhouse parking lot on a Saturday night
Hunter — God love him — went Navy blue instead
Tried out for the Men's Department, the Corps shook their head
Flying fighters off a boat — second-best, still flies
We rib him every chance — but boys, ain't gonna lie:
When the jukebox plays and the Shiner's running cold
Even Navy gets a seat at the Class of '08
OutroColby, Phil, Josh, KP, Hunter
Roger, Rick, Mark, and Wide-A-Men
Wherever life took ya, wherever you ran
Save me a seat at the bar, my friend
Class of Oh-Eight... Class of Oh-Eight