Pawn
Man's fate lies with the gods
Let no one forget the odds
Lest, he shake hands with death
And sleep without breath.
Ceaselessly, the weavers weave
The very fabric of his life
Through the gate
He'll walk with a little faith
On this path lies his real fate
A thin ice on whose cold brink he skates
He's just a pawn
For the gods move him like a clown
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