Flying on your bearing, 337 line
Between the islands
Training my antenna for patterns in the whine
I hear your voice now
If you believe our course is true
Then I am close to you
Don't give up on me there's one more turn I'm making
One more signal sending
To keep my compass true
Itasca I am willing to do what I must do
Make my landing
Search beyond endurance, limit of my fuel
Not where I planned now
Itasca I am ready to come down from the sky
Over ocean now
Feathering my engines, running them on dry
Not long now
If you believe our course is true...