It seems suspicious
The motives that would lead me here
In this world where our demise
Is predetermined in the skies.
It’s no question about my fate.
It’s sealed in the tongues of gods.
Destiny has provided me a bed
In which to lie alone
In hopes I may awaken wise.
So pardon me, my muse,
For questioning this mirrored sable truth.
But it’s almost as if I could touch you
Although it’s for naught.
We’re preordained from the start.
You’re destined for greater things,
A glorious truth of which I’m certain,
While I’m merely reserved
A slot in the wall of sounds
Haunting hallowed grounds.