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Old sextant you don't work well tonight
too high sister Pole Star in the Orion sky
at Borgopass I turn left... maybe right?
think I'll set my sail on the Wird wind this time!
Lil' abaft of the Sun at the bow o' the Moon
as far as the Pléiades or an upwind harpoon
a place you shall find when there's no road to hit
sparks the water mill of Long John Silver's Inn.
De-la de-la dee dee HO!
no wisdom I'm looking for!
neither searching for the knowledge
De-la de-la dee dee HO!
just console my soul - Das Grenzevolk! -
with a stout or an abbey ale
where the rocky road falls!
The Dutchman shouts Aye,
aye
crew!
Tides
for
the
next
bloody
fly
they chantent La
Messe
of the
Morts tasting burgundy wine
Elric friend
min deal me Chaos' cards in my hand
it's too hard to solve Lord's riddle for this borderline man.
Is there something to learn? All just rollin' of dice?
Ask who'll press apple/Q on my Photoshop file!
Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
We'll sing refrains no more! - Das Grenzevolk! -
Yet Jig's lilt reaches us across the cliffs
Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
To tell of Wandering Jew⦠when he's tired of wandering
but still proud o' being Jew
Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
Well... just one more time at all
so drink the sour cup of life in
1.2.3.4 draughts
Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
'Till it's empty go slow
you may find the hidden sweet
or you can always hope!