The Gods those Sods

People never seem to think...

Im on the brink
And voicing my lyrical profanity
A statement of my questionable sanity,
What were the odds
I'd be who i be,
Or was it the Gods
Those almight Sods
And all their Power,
They made the hour of my birth,
They've planned the minutes of my death
Every Ethereal Breath,
But I'm happy
It should make me sick
Make me smack my head on the brick
But rather I've been given life
And I make the most of living it...