And what are we all running from?
Like groups of gazelles, certain a lion is stalking us
stumbling together through a savannah
while a predator lurks
A casino floor with stilettos for hooves
Holding our wounded and weak up with liquor
Hoping to stave off aggressors
with sheer numbers
The blistering city streets are lined with watering holes
but the water is toxic
not fit but to speed up our capture
the Lion is stalking us
And he is patient
Eventually the wrong move is made
stumbling down the wrong alley
collapsing on the wrong bed
You can only shed a tear and lie
While the Lion waits for you to die
A mortal mistake is sprinting to make an escape
And what are we running from anyway
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