Letra de Insulae

Right on Flroreana Completely marooned Managing to survive by the nice land Hunter and farmer And there he was lads, Mr.Watkins Trading goods with fishermen And whoever god sent For now, 1807, insulae de los galopegos Fits him in his crown, with no queen at all Some will say the rum was the deal Some will say it was just the bill Yes, the land of his own Patrick boy, king of nowhere There's no need to run, no need to No giant to fight or a fight to gamble, no The time goes slower, it's time to think It's time to drink, it's time to leave Left by the crimes committed Or just lost beyond the waves Mercator once saw the land of greatness Some will say the rum was the deal Some will say it was just the bill Yes, the land of his own Patrick boy, king of nowhere Boarded on a ship, flooded in desire The crown on the ground, because no rule it sells The irish boy went away Towards Guayaquil