Far from here in a forlorn world, three ladies sat and wove,
They wove the clouds, the lights, the terror,
wove pretention, luck and woe.
Three ladys by the names of Norns.
Urd, the past, long gone and still
agressive now in our days.
Verdandi, now, becoming thrilled,
for only now's reality.
Skuld, the future, all unknown,
for this is fate, it's to become.
The three of them are called
Affection, created by someone so much different from you.
Illusion, emanated by a person yet to become,
caught in a web of "doesn't matter".
The harder you try, the stronger it gets.
Before you know.
Caught in an ambush of spikes.
Try to escape. Burn.
The more you struggle, the deeper it cuts.
The sea is big. It's deep. And blue.
Don't fall into the sea.
Caution! Do not enter!
Step by step you walk into enemy territory.
You walk through a minefield, seemingly unharmed.
You walk through the no man's land, seemingly unharmed.
You walk over the frontier, seemingly unharmed.
You walk beyond enemy lines, seemingly unharmed.
But every step you do
makes yourself illegal
Three strings bring you towards the trial:
One, bright as the stars. Close you look: it's ones and zeros.
Two, blue as the sea. Close you look: it's fish and monkeys.
Three, red as your blood. Close you look: it is your blood.
One pulls, and pulls, and all its effort is lost.
Two pulls, and pulls, and draws you aside.
Three pulls, and without resistance you rush all along.
Do not underestimate
The red string.
How do you decide?
Nothing is wrong
Should not have,
Would not have,
Could not have.
You die from