The last of some bad debris, falls through the coconut treesAs twilight claims me, in chinkoma-lyAnd through rusted radios, came a calypsoI stood with the longo, in tiger's shadowThe longo, the longo, from chips that have been in droveWe draw lines in the sandThe longo, how long though, until we will get back homeThe sun is setting lowThe youth come and go, singing the songs they knowLike Mother Teresa, and Vishnu SiddharthaWe fly paper planes, or count wikis where they layThe roots of your family, the guns of your historyThe longo, the longo, from chips that have been in droveWe draw lines in the sandThe longo, how long though, until we will get back homeThe sun is setting lowIs it sailing away?Or am I waiting in vain?Do you break all your chains?For it to always remainThe longo, the longo, from chips that have been in droveWe draw lines in the sandThe longo, how long though, until we will get back homeThe sun is setting lowThe longo, the longoThe longo, from chips that have been in droveThe longo, the longoFrom chips that have been in droveWe draw lines in the sandWe draw lines in the sandWe draw lines in the sand