| When I stand and look
|
| About the port
|
| And contemplate my life, will I Ever see my countrymen again?
|
| As the captain calls us on the deck
|
| I take my things and walk
|
| To the harbourside, I glance back
|
| One last time.
|
| Fleeing our nation, our problems
|
| We leave behind.
|
| Ships by the tenfold sail
|
| Out on the tide.
|
| We are pleased to be out and
|
| Embracing the open sea.
|
| Free from our troubles
|
| And more free from thee.
|
| Inheritors unfulfilled reason
|
| Behind us.
|
| We flee from what is not what
|
| Is will be.
|
| We flee the earth and face our
|
| Harsh reality.
|
| Will death be low mist that
|
| Hangs on the sea?
|
| We run from the evil tongues, rash
|
| Judgements, selfish men
|
| Never to be seen on these
|
| Shores again.
|
| As we sail into oceansize
|
| And lose sight of all land
|
| A face of contentment
|
| Around in the air.
|
| We’re off now to Seek all our fortunes.
|
| To the land of our dreams.
|
| Riding the waves and the storm
|
| Is upon us.
|
| The winds lash the sails but
|
| The ropes keep them tight.
|
| Off in the distance a dark cloud
|
| Approaching.
|
| None could imagine what there
|
| Was to come.
|
| No, there’s no one going back.
|
| No, there’s not a second chance.
|
| As we strap onto the side
|
| We pray to God that we don’t die.
|
| As we ride the rough seas,
|
| As we soak from the ocean waves,
|
| I just hope for all our lives
|
| And pray that I survive.
|
| Four ships are lost in the
|
| Stormy conditions.
|
| The spirits of the sunken crews,
|
| Their phantoms follow us.
|
| Spirits, sails, they drive us on Through the all consuming waves.
|
| Cold mortality, no weapon
|
| Against these ever raging seas.
|
| Four leagues and ten and we Hit storms again.
|
| We just can’t get away from
|
| The eye of the storm.
|
| The birds outsoar the raging storm
|
| But we cannot escape it.
|
| Abandoned earth that we Now crave
|
| Is many leagues from safe.
|
| Holding on for our dear lives
|
| And we’re praying once again.
|
| Rotten luck or just jonahed?
|
| The talisman is in my hand.
|
| Limbds fatigues, trembling with cold.
|
| Blinded from the sea spray salt.
|
| Clasping anything we can hold.
|
| Heave’s rain upon us falls.
|
| Twenty days without a meal
|
| And ten without fresh water still.
|
| Those that didn’t die in storms
|
| The scurvy rest did slaughter.
|
| Westwards the tide.
|
| Westwards we sail on.
|
| Westwards the tide.
|
| Sail by the talisman.
|
| We approach the other side
|
| Of the ocean with the tide
|
| In our favour just for once.
|
| Welcome greeting, our new land.
|
| The elation in our hearts,
|
| The excitement in our veins
|
| As we sail towards the coastline
|
| Of our golden promised land.
|
| Weary limbs fatigued away.
|
| I have no life left in me.
|
| No more strength and nothing
|
| Left to give.
|
| Must find the will to live.
|
| Never thought that we could
|
| Make it.
|
| Truly sight of shores divine.
|
| The sickness I am dying from.
|
| Never wanted it to end this way.
|
| Westwards the tide.
|
| Westwards we sail on.
|
| Westwards the tide.
|
| Sail by the talisman. |