I was afraid of the fray, I was the guy who you could always rely on finding off to the side. But I dreamed of the day when I would stand up and say that I was sick and tired of trying to hide. Don’t want a strategist, just need a catalyst. I need a jolt that tells me I’m alive. If it isn’t a bolt that’s shot straight out of the sky, I’ll have to draw it from my own supply.
I will figure this thing out. Without a doubt, I’ll be someone who can be counted on when all the chips are down, the ships aground, and cops have got the place surrounded.
You can lie to my face, convince me that I’m crazy as eights, I’m the queen of spades. It just opens a door to how it happened before, how you can’t see it until it’s too late. Bring the catastrophist, the casket out forthwith: my eyes have opened where they once were blind. I feel the strata shift, I feel the waters lift. I want to be there when it all collides.
I will figure this thing out. Without a doubt, I’ll be someone who can be counted on when all the chips are down, the ships aground, and cops have got the place surrounded. You will know just what to do when all’s askew, when things have gone completely sideways. Through the fog of war you’ll see what needs to be decided to ensure survival. We, together, will prevail. We cannot fail, united by a simple service to pursue only the truth, call out those who will twist it for their selfish purpose.