Never Tell Me the Odds

Lyrics

This is the art of drawing breath Of making visible what has been invisible This is a pragmatist's guide to faith This is singing when you don't know how to pray Welcome to this space—know that you are not welcome We are all miracles, and we are not welcome Reality would like nothing more than for you to not exist And the proof is in the history you live; tell me this: What are the odds? That this planet would appear in just the right place With the right atmosphere and conditions? The specific combination of chemicals and catalyst To spark in the darkness; just imaginе it What are the odds this accident would sprеad? What are the odds it would survive and stay ahead Of volcanic eruptions, meteorites and earthquakes? That first drum, first beat, first rhythm, first break— First time the notes broke to form a system You could hear the first melody: The first multi-celled organism What are the odds this first environment to harbor life Would meet another, maybe fight or maybe harmonize? But either way it would evolve So what are the odds It would evolve to walk and not crawl? To fly and not fall? To survive every single mass extinction? What are the odds of your existence? How many generations did it take to make you? How many plagues and massacres conspired to kill Your family tree before it could even take root? How many ancestors claim you? Somewhere: a sunset A mother with every reason to quit doesn't A conscript sneaks away from the action A farmer makes it through the famine Somewhere, calamity strikes and everyone dies Except a big sister, holding a baby with your eyes Somewhere: a rebel, a runaway slave, a survivor Found something to die for, or something to live for; Against all odds, saw a future to fight for... So is it inconceivable: the happenstance inherent in This life you have inherited? Some see the elegant complexity of bodies Or the natural beauty of the planet and they say: It's godly. There's got to be divine intelligence behind it all Because the odds that you would make it on your own Are so small But me? I see millennia trying to murder you I see a thousand generations of pain and fear And struggle inscribed into your skeleton— And I see you, still here Ancestor armor. Star-crossed survivor Allied with the earth, and Defiance is your birthright; fire from the first time You drew breath, and redrew your fate Welcome to this space; know that you are not welcome We are all miracles, we are not welcome So if our drawing breath is blasphemy or treason Let's keep drawing breath Until there's nothing left to breathe in We are the codes that our ancestors still speak in