Lurking in the shadows is where I hide.
A sight behind the curtain of night.
What does it matter how I got there?
Where I stood, is where I stay.

A sight behind the curtain of night,
On scraped knees yelling at the moon,
Where I stood is where I stay,
was a figure quietly sprinting away.

On scraped knees yelling at the moon,
Nothing lost, nothing to lose.
A figure quietly sprinting away.
A colorful sight, but not a name.

Nothing lost, nothing to lose.
The man now just a strange sight.
a colorful sight, but not a name.
All with the moon still watching.

The man now just a strange sight.
What was I doing outside at night?
What does it matter how I got there?
While lurking in the shadows is I hide.