Quietly, the Quetzalcoatlus,
Sits atop his tree,
Searching out across the ocean slowly.

As the sun, in the southwest,
Sinks into the sea,
Turns the sky orange and indigo.

He sees a splash, his supper is there,
Spreads his arms, takes to the air.

The Quetzalcoatlus soars...
The Quetzalcoatlus soars...
The Quetzalcoatlus soars.

Overhead, quick as an arrow,
Sailing to the scene,
He arrives to hunt his territory.

Suddenly, splitting the surface,
Straight into the sea,
Awkwardly, he quickly quaffs his quarry.

If he's alive, there isn't a quiz,
He'll survive, and the skies are his.

The Quetzalcoatlus soars...
The Quetzalcoatlus soars...
The Quetzalcoatlus...

Absent are any observers to see,
His aerodynamic agility,
His aerial tricks,
And acrobatics,
Are seen to him alone,
They're seen to him alone.

If he's alive, there isn't a quiz,
He'll survive, and the skies are his.

The Quetzalcoatlus soars...
The Quetzalcoatlus soars...
The Quetzalcoatlus soars.