Withheld from me I might find the luxuries of fate
To trust that what’s been written once might be slightly late
To guide me down a path I think holds all the hope I hold
But in the end these desperate dreams might prove a bit too bold
For though I seek a life of peace, with settled soul therein
My hold on whimsy, luck, and grit is no formula to win

The hand of God may guide along my fervent disbelief
That what I seek is something new, and full of this relief
Sought so long by him and her and all those in between
To fancy that our choices made are choices never seen
Pretend for me that will is free and a product of my own
And you might just hear my story told with little to bemoan

I want to want and know it’s true and not predestined fate
Just one more chance to test my life before it gets too late