| The Red Chins in their millions
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| Will overspill their borders
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| And chaos then will reign in our Rael
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| The country of my fathers
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| A proud land of old order
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| Like a goldfish being swallowed by a whale
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| Rael, the home of my religion
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| To me the center of the Earth
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| The Red Chins in their millions
|
| Will overspill their borders
|
| And chaos then will reign in our Rael
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| My heritage is threatened
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| My roots are torn and cornered
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| And so to do my best I’ll homeward sail
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| And so to do my best I’ll homeward sail
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| Now Captain, listen to my instructions
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| Return to this spot on Christmas Day
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| Look toward the shore for my signal
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| And then you’ll know if in Rael I’ll stay
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| If a yellow flag is fluttering
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| Sickly herald against the morn
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| Then you’ll know my courage has ended
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| And you’ll send your boat ashore
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| But if a red flag is flying
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| Brazen bold against the blue
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| Then you’ll know that I am staying
|
| And my yacht belongs to you
|
| Now Captain, listen to my instructions
|
| Return to this spot on Christmas Day
|
| Look toward the shore for my signal
|
| And then you’ll know if in Rael I’ll stay
|
| He’s crazy if he thinks we’re coming back again
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| He’s crazy if he thinks we’re coming back again
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| He’s crazy if he thinks we’re coming back again
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| He’s crazy, anyway
|
| If a yellow flag is fluttering
|
| Sickly herald against the morn
|
| Then you’ll know my courage has ended
|
| And you’ll send your boat ashore |