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.