The turn of the wheel,
the dealing of cards,
the spots on dice,
the line of stars
Tiny movements,
flinches,
shape life, ripple through it,
where we can hardly feel it
Well I'm through with the waiting,
with the praying,
with the wishing.
I will throw a wrench to stop the wheel,
I will steal the aces
I will make the spots of the dice
I will rearrange the stars
so that it is no longer flinches, but strikes
not ripples, but tidal waves
I will remake what the hands of fate
have dared to begin
and I will make it my own
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