We ride into the dawn of harmony
Nobody can say our name is a dark date
With lights off and with still eyes of sunrise as a candle, we departed one late night in early November towards the island
History says there was bad weather under the sky of the sailors.
It says that the drizzle fell upon the men shoulders
And the winds of the Caribbean not just pursued the constant danger of shelter, but the vomit, the fatigue and the unbearable asthma attacks scratched our hearts why we looked at the horizon.
None can say our name is a dark date