Who cares about
your mystic lies
Is it a claim to some reality
I found myself barefoot
on stones
I donǣ˜ think
æ,–t was meant to be?
I donǣ˜ think
æ,–t just had to be?
So how can it be pre-arranged
When there抯 no order anyway
I found myself barefoot
on stone
I donǣ˜ think it was destiny
It wasnǣ˜ in the stars that day
Good fortune smile
On my ascendant star

Take head, small talk
Donǣ˜ trust the stars
I know itǣ— insufferable
Visionary can be so vain
To think that somewhere
Thereǣ— a path for you
I know itǣ— make
it seem mundane
It makes it all seem
so mundane
Good fortune smile
On my ascendant star
Take head, small talk
Donǣ˜ trust the stars