No Chains on My Cutie Mark

hard rock, arena rock, melodic hard rock

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V5.5

[Intro]
[Driving guitar riff]

[Verse 1]
My mark showed up when I was nine.
Three loaves underneath a flame.
Mom cried, Dad threw a party,
and everypony knew my name.

They bought me my first apron.
Said, "You've found what you should do."

Funny thing—

nopony ever asked me
if I wanted that life too.

I still love making bread some mornings.
Still know every recipe.

But I've got maps across my bedroom
of every star I want to see.

[Pre-Chorus]
Maybe what I'm good at
isn't all I'm meant to be.

[Chorus]
No chains on my cutie mark.
No fate I didn't choose.
It can tell you where I've been,
but I've got roads I haven't used.

I don't need to burn my past
to decide where I belong.

My mark can tell my story—

it doesn't write the ending.

That part is mine.

[Verse 2]
She could clear a cloudy skyline
before most pegasi woke.
Everypony called it talent.
She just called it someone else's hope.

They said weather was her calling.
She painted after work instead.

Now there's color on her canvas
and no weather chart beside her bed.

And that unicorn from Canterlot
whose family planned her whole career?

Packed her things last Tuesday morning.

She's building instruments down here.

[Pre-Chorus]
Maybe destiny can point somewhere.

It doesn't have to steer.

[Chorus]
No chains on my cutie mark.
No fate I didn't choose.
It can tell you where I've been,
but I've got roads I haven't used.

I don't need to burn my past
to decide where I belong.

My mark can tell my story—

it doesn't write the ending.

That part is mine.

[Post-Chorus]
My life.
My voice.
My road.
My choice.

[Verse 3]
Started with a dozen ponies
talking outside Town Hall.
By the weekend there were hundreds.
By next month, posters on the walls.

Manehattan heard about us.
Then Vanhoover joined the sound.
Cloudsdale painted little symbols
on the streets and all around.

Twilight came to hear us speaking.

I expected her to disagree.

Instead she stood there smiling
when we said what we believe.

[Pre-Chorus]
A mark can show you something.

It doesn't own a thing.

[Chorus]
No chains on our cutie marks.
No fate we didn't choose.
They can tell you where we've been,
but we've got roads we haven't used.

We don't need to burn our past
to decide where we belong.

Our marks can tell our stories—

they don't write the ending.

That part is ours.

[Instrumental]
[Melodic guitar solo]

[Bridge]
[Half-time, crowd building]

I am more than what I'm good at.

I am more than what they planned.

I can love where I came from
without dying where I stand.

I can change.

I can wander.

I can fail.

I can restart.

There's no chain around my future
just because there's one mark on my flank.

[Build]

My life!

My voice!

My road!

My choice!

[Final Chorus]
No chains on our cutie marks!
No fate we didn't choose!
They can tell you where we've been,
but we've got roads we haven't used!

We don't need to hate our past
to become who we belong!

Our marks can tell our stories—

THEY DON'T WRITE THE ENDING!

That part is ours!

[Post-Chorus]
Our lives!
Our voices!
Our roads!
Our choice!

[Outro]
[Music gradually darkens]

Somepony painted seven stars
above the words outside Town Hall.

I don't know who put them there.

By morning...

they were everywhere.

3241/7500

[Intro] [Driving guitar riff] [Verse 1] My mark showed up when I was nine. Three loaves underneath a flame. Mom cried, Dad threw a party, and everypony knew my name. They bought me my first apron. Said, "You've found what you should do." Funny thing— nopony ever asked me if I wanted that life too. I still love making bread some mornings. Still know every recipe. But I've got maps across my bedroom of every star I want to see. [Pre-Chorus] Maybe what I'm good at isn't all I'm meant to be. [Chorus] No chains on my cutie mark. No fate I didn't choose. It can tell you where I've been, but I've got roads I haven't used. I don't need to burn my past to decide where I belong. My mark can tell my story— it doesn't write the ending. That part is mine. [Verse 2] She could clear a cloudy skyline before most pegasi woke. Everypony called it talent. She just called it someone else's hope. They said weather was her calling. She painted after work instead. Now there's color on her canvas and no weather chart beside her bed. And that unicorn from Canterlot whose family planned her whole career? Packed her things last Tuesday morning. She's building instruments down here. [Pre-Chorus] Maybe destiny can point somewhere. It doesn't have to steer. [Chorus] No chains on my cutie mark. No fate I didn't choose. It can tell you where I've been, but I've got roads I haven't used. I don't need to burn my past to decide where I belong. My mark can tell my story— it doesn't write the ending. That part is mine. [Post-Chorus] My life. My voice. My road. My choice. [Verse 3] Started with a dozen ponies talking outside Town Hall. By the weekend there were hundreds. By next month, posters on the walls. Manehattan heard about us. Then Vanhoover joined the sound. Cloudsdale painted little symbols on the streets and all around. Twilight came to hear us speaking. I expected her to disagree. Instead she stood there smiling when we said what we believe. [Pre-Chorus] A mark can show you something. It doesn't own a thing. [Chorus] No chains on our cutie marks. No fate we didn't choose. They can tell you where we've been, but we've got roads we haven't used. We don't need to burn our past to decide where we belong. Our marks can tell our stories— they don't write the ending. That part is ours. [Instrumental] [Melodic guitar solo] [Bridge] [Half-time, crowd building] I am more than what I'm good at. I am more than what they planned. I can love where I came from without dying where I stand. I can change. I can wander. I can fail. I can restart. There's no chain around my future just because there's one mark on my flank. [Build] My life! My voice! My road! My choice! [Final Chorus] No chains on our cutie marks! No fate we didn't choose! They can tell you where we've been, but we've got roads we haven't used! We don't need to hate our past to become who we belong! Our marks can tell our stories— THEY DON'T WRITE THE ENDING! That part is ours! [Post-Chorus] Our lives! Our voices! Our roads! Our choice! [Outro] [Music gradually darkens] Somepony painted seven stars above the words outside Town Hall. I don't know who put them there. By morning... they were everywhere.

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