Из альбома: Live at Town Hall New York City September 19-20, 2001

There is a hot wind blowing
Moves across the oceans
And into every port

A plague; a black plague
There's danger everywhere
And you've been sailing

And you're alone on an island now tuning in
Did you think this was the way your world would end?
Hombres. Sailors. Comrades.

There is no pure land now, no safe place
And we stand here on the pier
Watching you drown

Love among the sailors
Love among the sailors

There is a hot wind blowing
Plague drifts across the oceans
And if this is the work of an angry god
I want to look into his angry face
There is no pure land now
No safe place

Come with us into the mountains
Hombres. Sailors. Comrades.

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