One strange land Was built from the sea Put a crown to the castle No strange land Could break the glass That cuts all the cats down I heard the captains voice No choice to listen up To your masses I heard the captain's voice Like a whistle in the breeze
I'm going to the coast of manhattan With a bag full of blues And a yellow canary Captain he spoke In a voice from the ivory coast Saying there's no passion in perfection My son
Pull the flag down Let dust settle back On the rose-colored glasses Pull the flag down And watch it whistle in the breeze One last hope that lies Like a monkey that flies To the scent of molasses One last hope that lies I watch it whistle to the bees
