On!. Sailing on!. To our fate!. To India. . Above the seas with the wind we are flying high. Our wings are sails and our trail means no second try. Golden and silver the future will be.
Give me all your paper ma. Gimme all your jazz. Give me something that I need. Something I can have. Mrs. London's coming round. She's coming with her son.
Stupid on the steinway. So sick upon a steinway. The sailors drown. See them talk and see them drown. And see them drink and fall around. Upon the floor.