My list of unsubstantiated beliefs and superstitions are not long but, boy, are they hard to shake. The persistent ones include: jinxing a potentially favourable future by talking about it, trusting the universe has its way of keeping score and, possibly the worst of the lot, believing that every new year brings with it a clean slate.

Take the New Year’s Eve of 2020. I had high hopes heralding the start of a new decade. We all did. Of course, COVID-19 made sure that the perils of 2019 stuck and stank. For the entire world. For a very long time.

Despite our best efforts and vigilance at adhering to the inexplicable (and often, self-made) rules and habits to bend unknown futures to our desires, they probably aren’t going to work. But as much as it felt like so when it was written, SIGNS isn’t a song about the death of hope. Instead, it is a song about being at peace with knowing that no number of false charms and made-up rituals will quash our trials.

Decent folks will still get shortchanged at life. Not discussing the outcome of a medical review will not change the results of the lab test. And the stroke of midnight marking the start of a new day doesn’t change a thing. Things will not get easier. But at least we ought to know better than to blame a bad turn of events on the wrong colour of underwear. Or something.

—

If it starts aching inside
You gotta realise
The rolling of the dice
Will be your only prize

Don’t go looking for signs
Or ways of the divine
Coincidences lie
Stars, they never align

It’s just a trick of the eye
The mist and the moonlight
Do nothing for your life
Just let them pass you by

We could argue all night
And drink all of the wine
There’s still no place to hide
These dreams still make you cry

Don’t go looking for signs
Or ways of the divine
Coincidences lie
Stars, they never align