Текст: HP Lovecraft. Sailing On The White Ship. Wayfaring Stranger.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world of woe;
And there's no sickness, toil, no danger
In that bright land to which I go.
I'm going there to meet my brothers,
And from that land we'll find a way;
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger,
Looking for a brighter day.

One of these mornings and it won't be long
All men will rise, stand side by side;
Than hand in hand we'll stand together,

Vibrations calling all mankind.
I'm going there to meet my brothers,
And from that land we'll find a way;
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger,
Looking for a brighter day.
Brighter day
Brighter day
Brighter day