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