Follow me
My footsteps lead the way
To a ship of seven masts
With seven sails of blue and grey
Merry men await on board
Noble sailors dressed in white
Captain Thompson holds the wheel
Cegs of rum are poured by night
We're on our way, the ocean spreads
And the horizon feels so far
A fortnight and a half we sail
Guided by the northern star
Till at last we see a land
Mountains green and purple cliffs
Many tales you've heard of it
A land described in ancient myths
Thompson shouts: away the anchor!
And the seamen all obey
Wishdwarves gather on the seashore
As we softly moor to bay
They are little furry creatures
They greet us kindly, with a smile
They wear a wise and noble look
That spears your soul and makes you sigh
You long to know, to comprehend
Whether the legends all are true
You have carefully picked your wishes
And your desire to fulfill them grew
As you read your list aloud
They ask for nothing in return
And with a silent wave of finger
They execute your will and yearn
Pleased and drunken we head back
To our wives and girls and boys
Yet you can't ignore the feeling
Something's missing in these joys. |
המציאות הנו מקרי בהחלט. אין צוות האתר ו/או
הנהלת האתר אחראים לנזק, אבדן, אי נוחות, עגמת
נפש וכיו''ב תוצאות, ישירות או עקיפות, שייגרמו
לך או לכל צד שלישי בשל מסרים שיפורסמו
ביצירות, שהנם באחריות היוצר בלבד.