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 dark and 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 now 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 right 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 oh it stretches further than you ve heard there s no love like our love and i know that none is 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 a standing eight count