America

       Chorus:
       All the ships sail away
       But not every come.
       It's so hard to get here, America...

       Oh, I am lookin' at the map of mine,
       As if I haven't done and made it out.
       There are two oceans which surround the line,
       And different seasons, and different clouds.
       But drops are dripping from the sky by living motions,
       And falling leaves are falling down for next devotions.
       Again the ships sail to the West
       Where someone waits them all and rest,
       But we're divided each from other by the oceans.

       Chorus.

       Oh, I am lookin' at the map of mine.
       I see a clear scene - the town tower,
       And through the darkness feel the hundreds sights,
       Which never knew before in their power.
       But these small faces hide away and disappear
       Beyond the mountains, beyound the human sphere.
       The ships feel drawn to come spsrt,
       My route's so dangerous and hard,
       But we're divided each from other there and here.

       Chorus.