As the gentle breeze
Blows by, the breeze from River Messina

We limped on.
We're a flock of New Israelites
Hoping to cross today's Jordan.

Others were lucky
Telling officials
Off the Canary Islands
They played soccer like Eto.
Remember the Athenians
Who sang Euripides?
They were saved.

We have no case
But my spirit,
She must see
Us through.

Here come the descendants of Bob,
The great march of the Zimbos,
Searching for bread, water and Salt
Seeing the beginning of the end.

Returning is not possible.
And going forward,
A very difficult task.
The sky is our roof
The moon our lamp
The earth our floor
The trees, shrubs and the beasts,
Our comrades.

We must make do
Or fade OUT.