Verse 1

We count the names that no one reads aloud,

two sets of hands gone quiet on the water.

The verdict circles back into the crowd,

and something valuable moves north without a daughter.

The gold goes underground before the fault lines show,

prepared for crises no one will confess to.

We've learned to read the weather in the undertow,

in veiled words and distances that press through.

Chorus

We are cornered on the threshold of a deal

that no one shakes on, no one walks away from.

The jury counts the hours like a wheel

that keeps returning to what we can't name.

We carry what the archives won't reveal,

and store it far from where the fractures came.

Bridge

Somewhere in the square they're raising voices

about who gets to cross and who gets held.

Somewhere an acquittal clears the courthouse,

and what was done remains inside the weld.

A wedding interrupted by a calculation.

A tanker drifting into someone else's war.

We process it as data, not as devastation,

until the numbers don't divide the way they did before.

Verse 2

The threats arrive in language meant to blur,

the kind that lets the speaker keep their distance.

We've gotten good at reading what they were,

at measuring the weight of each insistence.

We move the gold. We file the protest form.

We deadlock on the thing we can't determine.

Outro

The wheel comes back.

The wheel comes back.

We count again.

Instrumental Outro

How did it make you feel?

A new song arrives tomorrow.