Seven days of summer in a winter land
The east of Saigon, with the tossed-up sand
We forged our adventures, by the light
On the mantra YOLO, into the night
We made our moves at a gingerly pace
And surrendered into the warm embrace
Of time, and space, which seemed to stand so still
A reflection of intent and the will
And as the seven days come to an end
So time, reality will apprehend
Memories of the lighthouse will still remain
To stir the echoes of the coastal plain
