In which direction are we going? How many runaways are we stowing? Over the black sea with your arms around me In whose honor have we gone missing?
I am too hungry to imagine A different ending to this famine In the building chaos of calendars and clocks I missed a mark somewhere and I got us lost It's a standing eight count
Out on the darker shore less waters Comrade do you think we'll go under? On which horizon is my lover waking up? You pass this bottle and then I think too much
I lean your body up against me And make believe that you still want me The swell of white caps and a silver streak of light Here on the bowline we pay dearly for our size It's a standing eight count
Lessons will come, wisdom will wait Whatever it does, it's too late What good are we now? Our backs on the ground Our faces both bloodied and bowed When we oughta know better by now
The flat and troubled, shapeless earth It stretches further then you've heard There's no love like our love And none older, none as cursed You hurt the ones you love And we couldn't do much worse
How many fingers am I showing? How many tears are you withholding? There's beads of sweat pouring in our eyes If it were blood, we wouldn't know it It's a stand, it's standing eight countTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
