Talking, what's it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Wrestle, let's wrestle
You can pin me to anything

Thought I saw you in my tea leaves
Thought I saw you in a forest flame
I'll fill up the silence with the sound of your holy name

Knowledge of the sea-ways, knowledge of how the water flows
Whoever coined the phrase has never had to brave the snow
I climbed the shroud to the top-sail and I peeked through the glass
The curvature bisected by a wintry mizzen mast

The scar upon my stomach, I call it my Flying V
And every time I show it, I can feel your eyes on me
How many islands will surrender to the blunderbuss?
And how long must we sail before you show your face to us?

Followed him out to the end of the pier
"Don't come any closer," he cried, "I am afraid
Of the man I'll become if I lay my
Life down for a people who I don't even care for."
Face to his face, I put my
Hand into his and I tried to tell him, "No
I've seen his work upon the panes of cathedrals
In the sweat of the workers and the flight of the seagulls."
My words were drowned out by the sound
Of the motors and rowers, the ship as it ran aground
And from the trees came a thousand soldiers
I went down on my knees with a spear in my shoulder
About face, about face, I swam back
To the Victoria. I shiver with the
Memory, memory of the island dwellers
And the indifferences of the Storyteller