Statistically, you might be one of a hundred only ones
I'm terrified I'll decide and get it wrong
I want to believe in something like serendipity
I want love to find me. On a walk in the park
They'll come up and hit me with a car
Then, I don't know, coffee? I won't be satisfied if we're only born to die
But statistically you might be one of a hundred only ones
I'm terrified I'll decide and get it wrong. Do all the math, take a nap
I'll call up a psychic medium, ask 'em if it's better with a different one
Unless, I suppose, you pack up your shit and hit the road, turned to a ghost
But there's no dignity in forever wondering 'bout the people
& the things that could have been
But why are you running with nowhere to go?
And can you believe the improbable?
There is no certainty but what you feel. Ostensibly
You & me are playing the cosmic lottery, and I'm all in