Mayday at Level 240
Operating at a furious 155 BPM, Take B harnesses galloping power metal drums, screaming lead guitars, and synthesized cockpit sirens for a terrifying descent.
The stories behind Mayday at Level 240
- Industrial Power Metal Fury and Cockpit Alarms in Take B — Operating at a furious 155 BPM, Take B harnesses galloping power metal drums, screaming lead guitars, and synthesized cockpit sirens for a terrifying descent.
- Avionics Failures and High-Altitude Perfusion Cabin Depressurization — When avionics fires disable primary cabin inverters at twenty-four thousand feet, aeromedical crews battle freezing drafts to protect beating donor organs.
Lyrics
Made in, Made in,
Jet 689
Electrical fire in the avionics bay
Cabin pressure dropping
I'm a
Left engine alternator burned out in the past
Black smoke in the oxygen mask, smell the light melted wire
Cabin lights exploded in a shower of electrical fire
The jet bang 45 degrees plunging through the cloud
Wind screaming on the fuselage, terrifying and loud
The main AC inverter snapped with a hollow clank
The organ care system dropped to its internal battery bag
Battery clock, fifty minutes left
Freezing air rushing through the cabin cleft
If the chamber cools down the donor heart will freeze
Falling through the midnight gather 24 degrees
At level 240 fighting for the air
Plunging through the thunder in an aviation prayer
Smoke in the cabin, cockpit going blind
Leaving every margin and safety rule behind
Wrap the thermal blankets around the plastic dome
We've gotta find an airstrip or we're never heading home
Lady, lady, down, down through the dark dark
Protect the living spark
Fire
Fire
I'll pull the throttles back
Leveled at four thousand feet
Searching through the blackness
For a wrong way on the sheet
Mark is through his body weight
Way up, way up, way up, way up
Across the acrylic case
They see Shielding off the freezing trails
Inside the cabin space
Battery indicator flashing Amber on the bar
Thirty -eight minutes And
Dallas is too far
Copilot, yeah Pop dust to strip
Two miles off the know
Pavement scrapped and unlit
But it's the only head that goes
Oh,
my God, I got level 240,
fighting for the air,
Plunging through the thunder in an aviation prayer
Smoke in the cabin, cockpit going blind
Leaving every margin and safety rule behind
Wrap the travel blankets around the plastic door
We gotta find an extra floor, we're never heading home
Lady, down through the door
Protect the limits
Touchdown
We're on the ground
Some day it is down
The wing is on fire
Get the box out
