| The city crouches, steaming
|
| In the early morning half light
|
| The sun is still a rumor
|
| And the night is still a threat
|
| Slipping through the dark streets
|
| And the echoes and the shadows
|
| Something stirs behind me
|
| And my palms begin to sweat
|
| Sometimes I freeze, until the light comes
|
| Sometimes I fly, into the night
|
| Sometimes I fight, against the darkness
|
| Sometimes I’m wrong, sometimes I’m right
|
| Coiled for the spring
|
| Or caught like a creature in the headlights
|
| Into a desperate panic
|
| Or a tempest of blind fury
|
| Like a cornered beast
|
| Or a conquering hero
|
| The menace threatens, closing
|
| And I’m frozen in the shadows
|
| I’m not prepared to run away
|
| And I’m not prepared to fight
|
| I can’t stand to reason
|
| Or surrender to a reflex
|
| I will trust my instincts
|
| Or surrender to my fright
|
| Sometimes we freeze, until the light comes
|
| Sometimes we fight, and sometimes we ride
|
| Sometimes we fight, against the darkness
|
| Sometimes we fly, into the night
|
| Blood running cold
|
| Mind going down into a dark night
|
| Of a desperate panic
|
| Or a tempest of blind fury
|
| Like a cornered beast
|
| Or a conquering hero
|
| Sometimes I freeze
|
| Sometimes I fight
|
| Sometimes I fly
|
| Into the night
|
| Into the night |