When I raise my arm,

I wrench the moment away from you;

I see the need to strike

 

To split through time,

To dare the chance

That you will fly above the diamond’s shine

 

And I will throw down the judgement line,

Waiting for the call,

Waiting for the insurrection of the dust to rise

 

Waiting for this rundown, dugout rebellion,

A triple-strike shadow looming wide

Tight, tense, knowing

 

All words fail when I see the sign,

For this fate, this moment

Is when I retire the side

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