Tip of my tongue

The words are all assembled, all ordered like a marching band. And yet, these troops can not be deployed, the general's lack of sense prohibits their deployment into the air waves. Unable to sing their song on the airwaves, unable to fulfill their destinies as did pilots did in the wars a long long time ago.

The war is long over now, these troops never seen the horizon's edge. Still waiting for the chance, to soar, they await.