Along the beating sea we go
A-cast our boat to tack toward a place we must know
To a far off island where our troubles begone
Start fresh, start anew – pioneers for long
An empty island it must begin
With unity in our regimen
For a dangerous journey brought together
A future there lies, that’s better
Until outsiders find their way toward our home
This once empty island now ours they hone
Drums to a beat with ours out of sync
Chaos arises in the inner ring
New instruments, new dialects, new colors unknown
From far off lands to us they are grown
A new mesh is created through battle lost and won
Until harmony is created, eventually we are one
New ages must begin.
An outer ring of life therein.
Waves our boats must ride.
To find mountains stretched high and wide.
A Rilaoan rise it may seem.
Pioneers once again we gleam.
For a growth of settlements.
STEMs atop each other with confidence.
With a loose beginning we will lean.
Being disparate each stacked building will gleam.
Though we begin to mesh further together.
Shared creation here and there.
We live a life as makers to share.
Families of pioneers to care.
More developed and refined.
Ready to unite - life aligned.
To the outer ring we ship.
For muka oil extraction it is our role to equip.
A game changing resource in our presence.
To change the course of Rilao for sense.
With new technological abilities.
Oil platforms – a bag of mixed leaves.
For chaos does unfold amongst antics.
When power and misunderstanding come into the mix.
Fear gives way through the power of these platforms.
They pull all natural resources without human arms.
Even the strongest of men get swallowed.
Into the game of machines that get stowed.
A continuous battle it will be.
Until human strength does overcome.
At which point there is true harmony.
To be one with Rilaoan man’s growth through eternity.
