There is a hot wind blowing it moves across teh oceand and into every port. A plague. A black plague. There's danger everywhere and you've been sailing. And you're alone on an island now tuning
Id you think this was the way your world would end? Hombres. Sailors. Comrades. There is no pure land now no safe plave and we stand here by the pier watching you drown. Love among the sailors.
Among the sailors. There is a hot wind blowing plague drifts across the oceans. And if this is the work of an angry God I want to look into his angry face. There is no pure land now. No safe pla
Ome with us to the mountains. Hombres. Sailors. Comrades.