The last ones will be the first after all

We've been a hundred men and now we are ten
On this rotten boat
Ninety dreams we've buried in the sand
Not one of them comes back again
And all we needed was a piece of land
A handful of sand In nowhere-land

We were young we were brave we were bold
Our visions come to an end
One thousond days have made us grow old
And the wind's still blowing mighty cold
And all we needed was a piece of land
A handful of sand In nowhere-land

All we needed was a piece of land
A handful of sand In nowhere-land
All that's left is so small so small
But the last ones will be
The first after all