We make the beds in which we'll stretch
in unconscious pre-planning;
tending and hedging our bets
thinking we're thinking ahead.

Out of the blue comes the given life,
out of the window volition.
In small miracles, in constant reinvention
we make sense of each current position.

Every choice that we make, every trick that we turn up
appears in its principle sound.
Yeh, we're self-made men, masters of our destiny,
free and unbound.......

In to the heart comes the brave new world
where we're slaves to the strength of conviction.....
I believe decisions come like continents to conquer
like I believe we're no strangers to fiction.

Every road that we take
means a journey rejected
we pretend we can still have it all
every future we dream a virtual reality
only vanity still holds us enthralled
when the best laid plans of mice and men
all unravel in the judgement call.

Pride still make us ride for a fall.

Surely we look ripe for a fall,
surely we look ripe for a fall;
maybe we just ride for the fall.