Pull the thread Spin the line Measure time Cut. Again. I signed the deal, I shook the hands Thought I chose the where and when But somewhere deep, beneath the skin I feel the pull—I feel them spin Clotho weaves in silent halls Plans disguised as curtain calls Lachesis counts what's mine to spend A future rationed, thread-bound end Every choice I thought was mine Was written long before my time I act, I fight, I rise, I fall But is it fate… or just the call? The thread pulls tight, I walk the wire Mistake or mission? Blood or fire? I lead, I speak, I bear the weight But all along… it's the Thread of Fate The crown they gave me came with strings Invisible, unbreakable things Every triumph was rehearsed Every failure, well-reversed Atropos waits with silver shears Behind my pride, beneath my fears And still I move, I play the part A leader trapped in some dark art What if control's a grand disguise? And every will is compromise? Is freedom real, or just the name We give the hand inside the flame? The thread pulls tight, I walk the wire Mistake or mission? Blood or fire? I lead, I speak, I bear the weight But all along… it's the Thread of Fate You thought you were the one who chose. You thought the world bent to your will. But we were there… in every deal. In every yes, in every kill. What if the thread was never theirs? What if the hand that spins... is mine? Between the pull of fate and will Lies the moment where I'm... alive The thread pulls tight, but I design Where it leads, what it might find I speak, I choose, I hold the weight And redefine... this Thread of Fate I see the patterns they create But I weave through... the Thread of Fate I signed the deal, but hold the pen Spin my line... measure my time... The cut's my own.
