Verse 1

We inherit the throne before the body's cold,

the speech already written, the grief already sold.

Somewhere the water rises past the camera's reach,

and what we cannot picture, we are taught not to teach.

We pass the crown through trembling rooms,

we sort the living from the ones the flood entombs.

Chorus

The deal is done above the buried ground,

the fire speaks a language we have not yet found.

We vote on whether borders can be rearranged,

we count the barrels while the city air is stained.

Oh, we carry Sunday like a stone grown warm —

it does not weigh less for being born in calm.

Verse 2

A spy's name surfaces in a rented room,

old debts unpacked like luggage in a hallway's gloom.

A man is sent home across a darkened sea,

another man is jailed for what he thought was free.

The king says: my dear father — and the crowd goes still.

We recognize that grief. We always will.

Chorus

The deal is done above the buried ground,

the fire speaks a language we have not yet found.

We vote on whether borders can be rearranged,

we count the barrels while the city air is stained.

Oh, we carry Sunday like a stone grown warm —

it does not weigh less for being born in calm.

Bridge

The news moves fast but the dead move slow.

There are floods we are not allowed to know.

Something historic, something historic —

we've heard that word so often it's corroded at the core.

Still the summer holds its light a little longer,

still we ask each other if we're getting stronger.

Outro

We are getting stronger.

We are not so sure.

We inherit Sundays,

open-handed, uninsured.

Instrumental Outro

How did it make you feel?

A new song arrives tomorrow.