The Fates Sing to Ophelia

There's a song within a play within a game,
Heard by all the wisest auditors for half a thousand years.
And antiquity rebounds the single resonant refrain,
We Fates have earned our name.
This too, will end in tears.

On your day of birth, your death, our greatest gift.
Gaze not gently into battle, but charge into the rift,
You arise, we call your name,
Strong brave woman, have no shame.
In the horror find your mirth,
From the season of your birth.

And in the coldest hours, found alone,
The damned and lonely hold their crowns and thrones,
And pray for it all to pass.

But what they pray for isn't theirs to have,
We draw the lines between the "there" and "back",
You fill in the passing dawns.
(oh oh)

Now you'll listen to my song within a game,
And you'll revel in the music, in the theater, the play,
And while Truth resists our change,
Nothing else can stay the same.
Woman, take your station, now arise and say your say.
(ah)