The circumstance of chance is never that
Things are set right,
That your life will flow like the gentle squall
Across a field of gold.
The circumstance of chance is what you make of it
And how you chose to live with it.
You can blame your father for his house,
Or your mother for her abandon.
But never does it matter, I tell you again.
The circumstance of chance is too much to take
But if you stepped out of it all,
And understood that
And that your mother was terribly afraid of the world around her,
Or that your father too driven by fear for the lives he is responsible for,
It is only then that you realize
Love isn't given away freely to anybody,
That the man next to you needs a soft smile
To live his life another day
Or that you need yourself on the darkest of days.