The breeze that used to wander through valleys and hills
Became a wind on a sailor's wings at troubled sea
Here's the dilemma now
Do I pull these sails up?
When do I cast the net? Should I turn the helm around?
Cause we don't, we don't, we don't have a map
No lighthouse, no compass or forecast
No, we don't have a date to come back
8 meters to portside says the man on the crow's nest
While the rookie adventurer longs for the seven seas
Cause we don't, we don't, we don't have a map
No lighthouse, no compass or forecast
No, we don't have a date
No we don't, we don't, we don't have a lighthouse, compass or map
This cruiser that we stand on is our only certainty

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