We’re not allowed to believe in the fates anymore
they’re out of date, not part of the story we weave,
we’re convinced that destiny is only ours to explore.
But the fates still watch from a distance, a bit bored
by the mistakes we keep making, and often grieve
that we’re not allowed to believe in them anymore.
They stand in silence, though horrified to the core
by all the deceit we swallow daily, unable to believe
we’re convinced that destiny is only ours to explore.
We can’t conceive of fate with its revolving door,
enslaved in our wilful world, free but unable to leave,
we’re not allowed to believe in the fates anymore.
We’re just a dressmaker’s dummy on the shop floor
our heads filled with straw, blank faced and naive
we’re convinced that destiny is only ours to explore.
Old choices lie scattered, loose threads on the floor,
we’re stalked by shadows that grant no reprieve
we’re not allowed to believe in the fates anymore
still convinced our destiny is only ours to explore.
