The crimson sunset of Tanjong.
The brilliant orange sun, kiss the horizon.
A duty it loyally performs daily since the beginning of time.
In a showmanship of pride,
It paints the sky crimson bright.
Spilling the colours on our darkening homeland.
A majestic sentinel stands on the cliff.
It's piercing, rotating beacon visible for miles,
sending out warnings to ships of submerge dangers.
A curse to careless mariners.
I once shuddered at the old belief that crimson sunset
was indication of a raging war where blood spilled like water.
For Tanjongers, 'twas a reminder of our home dear.
Today, however, any sight of a crimson sunset
is a nostalgic reminder of our Tanjong days we wouldn't forget.
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