Blade of a boat
has cut a dolphin’s gut.
Life on the road
can be extremely hard.

It’s a disaster
when shots have come to end.
You should be faster
making a bent.

Worry tears sails of glory!
Sorry, sorry, sorry...

You on patrol
might not confront a foe.
Out of control
can be a sense of woe.

Notice door hinges -
they either sing or squeak:
Many of tinges -
what for you seek?

Worry tears sails of glory!
Sorry, sorry, sorry...

Long live all those
who still can sing in sleep.
All lands can go
under the water deep,

All crops they grow
can be by fire reaped -
Sets my sights low, -
that’s all I need!

Worry tears sails of glory!
Sorry, sorry, sorry...