The boat is tossed around, but floating,
The wives back home are cooking food,
He as a kid became immortal,
With death encounter he withstood.

Attacks of asthma choke and strangle,
He on his own is left with pain.
For sure knows is not abandoned,
No effort is consigned in vain.

Adventure is his second nature,
By which a thrill seeker he is.
He could embark on any venture
With passion, vision and with ease.

The jungles of unknown Bolivia,
Are rather dense, so thick and dark,
Between the freedom and oblivion-
And Tania is his Joan of Arc.

The final night is fading out,
Interrogation’s underway.
The fortitude they are about
To see will render them astray.

The boat is tossed around, but floating,
Some gear’s left behind, ashore.
In order to become immortal,
One has the death itself ignore.