A gentle breeze is sweeping over the ocean waves
The clouds are white cream cakes
The saloon walls are reeking of cigars and smoke
The ship is a floating chrome
The New World feels like a distant ally
We have just passed French Normandy by
The ballroom is dim and in the showman’s wake
Famous jazz players enter the stage
The star of the applause is a vocalist from France
With tantalizing eyes under her veil
She’s brought with her the latest trend in wealthy dance
1912 is the year when we sail
The New World is eager to show off her show
Film studios might welcome her soon
And little does the well-dressed audience know
That this holiday is destined for doom
Chorus
Hanging on to the strings of the guitar
As if all the doors inside were still ajar
Hanging on to the devils of the sound
As if we had countless years to linger on and hang around
Once the melody has wrapped you
Nothing else will count
A snap and the iceberg has done real harm
The engine room fills with water
The crew is careful not to raise the alarm
But the waiter is lost in a prayer
The New World seems a fruitless try
Soon enough we will see lopsided sky
The waltz should be danced one final time
Making everyone join the line
Chorus
Hanging on to the strings of the guitar
As if all the doors inside were still ajar
Hanging on to the devils of the sound
As if we had countless years to linger on and hang around
Once the melody has wrapped you
Nothing else will count
