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