We sail off to a warm land
for all time.
Our long voyage was pre-planned
to the nines.

Wheel of fortune you must turn
and be gone.
How to deal with storms we’ve learned
early on.

Now it’s time to climb the mast, my friend,
the demand for land’s tightened.
Maybe there’s a continent ahead,
maybe just a small island.

Someone always keeps a plan
by their side,
and this someone seeks a land
to reside.

But the others - not a dime
to their name -
sailing off to work full time
all the same.

Laugh, for you have made your fate a nun -
she will now remain silent.
Someone has a continent to run,
someone has a small Island.

But my fortune is quite blind,
nonetheless.
Cards foretold that I would find
a landmáss.

Fortune-teller, you are weak
with your signs.
I’m determined now to seek
minor isles.

Here’s the misty shoreline, be prepared:
slowly count up to a hundred.
What is this, a continent ahead
or is this my dream island?