Weíll be sailing with the high
When the ocean and the sky
We will take whatever fate
has in store,
Even if we never make
it to shore.
Climb the mast and make it fast, old mate.
Tell me, where will you and I land?
Probably the mainland - but wait!
Maybe itís my Blue Island.
Those who have too much to lose
Do the reckoning and choose
As for us, with just the shirt
on our back,
We are glad to trade the port
for the deck.
When they say, "Heís gone around the bend",
You just smile and keep silent.
Some make do with any old land,
Others need their own island.
An old pirate said, "Itís all
in your head!
Iíll believe it when I see
it, me lad!"
Pirate, when the spiritís weak,
eyes are blind.
I believe that if I seek,
I shall find!
Through the mist, the long awaited shore.
Rub the doubt from your eyelids.
What is it, the mainland once more?
Or is this my Blue Island?