The city crouches, steaming
In the early morning half-light
The sun is still [bad word] 
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 [bad word] 
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 [bad word] away
And I’m not prepared to fight

I can’t stand to reason
Or surrender to a reflex
I will [bad word] my instincts
Or surrender to my fright

Sometimes we freeze – until the [bad word] 
Sometimes we’re wrong – and sometimes we’re right
Sometimes we fight – against the darkness
Sometimes we fly – into the night

 [bad word] 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