‘Brand new shooter coming out’.
Place your bets and let them fly.
Crowd surrounds the table as you
Hold the ivories, let them roll to
Chance, spin their dotted dance to
Come to rest, yield their point,
Give you hope that you might beat
The house, break that losing chain.
Time and time and time again
You buck the odds, continue on,
Knowing that your chance grows thinner
Every time you make a pass.
Letting grass grow tall around your ankles
As you search for clues.
Blow the dice, close your eyes,
Someone cries out,
“Craps! You lose.”
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