I am but a farce a satire of stability Insecurity is an uphill struggle it's me versus the world The shore still starves For another Novel of my shipwrecked being tied up dried alive still breathing The sands of time from me are running out My hands

Then, and again, sing of three hundred men Glory and death, Spartans will never surrender Many many years ago, when Persia came ashore Heeding Leonidas' call the Spartans went to war Joined by their brothers, a few against the fateful horde

Primo victoria Through the gates of hell As we make our way to heaven Through the Nazi lines On the shores of western Europe 1944 Aiming for heaven though serving in hell Victory is ours their forces will fall D-day upon us On 6th of June

It's a French kiss, Italian ice Spanish moss in the moonlight Just another American Saturday night Although usually it washes up on our shores She's got Brazilian leather boots on the pedal of her German car Listen to the Beatles singin' 'Back in the

It's time that I make time for that Take a deep breath of mountain air Put on my glove and play some catch Wade the shore and cast a line Look up a long lost friend of mine Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss Start livin', that's the next thing on

Took the whip offshore (yeah) I took a chick offshore You should get out more (hey, hey) And you should get out more, you should get out more When we hit that floor, all the money downpour Do it up so large, do it up so large, like a breakout star Going

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh We come from the land of the ice and snow On we sweep with threshing oar Our only goal will be the western shore From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow The hammer of the gods W'ell drive our ships to new lands To

Don't cry, little Robin-Marie Goodbye, little Robin-Marie Don't try following me 'Cause you know I'm coming home soon My ships' leaving on a three-year tour The next tide will take us from shore Windlaced, gather in sail and spray On a search for the

Primo victoria Through the gates of hell As we make our way to heaven Through the Nazi lines On the shores of western Europe 1944 Aiming for heaven though serving in hell Victory is ours their forces will fall D-day upon us On 6th of June

It has been decided. We'll set forth on this journey. We packed the wagons Everything arranged, there is no turning back The time has come All too soon A stab all through my heart The afterglow Glimmered on the roof of our homestead We bode the nightfall