In which direction are we going? How many runaways are we stowing? Over the black sea with your arm around me In whose honor have we gone missing? I am too hungry to imagine A different ending to this famine In building chaos of calenders and clocks I missed a marked and I got us lost It's standing eight count Out on the dark and shoreless 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 Lean your body up against me Make believe that you still want me The swell of white caps and a silver streak of light Here on the bowline we pay clearly for our size It's standing eight count Lessons will come but wisdom will wait And whenever it does it's too late What good are we now? With our backs on the ground Our faces both bloodied and bowed When we ought to know better by now The flat and troubled shapeless earth It stretches futher then you've heard No love like our love, none older, none as cursed You hurt the ones you love and we wouldn't do Much worse How many fingers am I showing? How many tears are you withholding? Beads of sweat pouring in our eyes If it were blood we wouldn't know it It's standing eight count