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You sure do like to play your games,
and I like mine, alright,
but you prefer to play the day,
where I play mine at night.
You garner this and that and let
the shoaling eye befriend
with a toothy grin—the pit, wherein
you choose to apprehend.
Alas, your game is rigged to wreck;
to brave, a sure chagrin!
Yet, mind your plight enmired in spite,
for I will always win.
The day we met, the day began.
I played your game as due,
but now the light is nigh to end;
the morrow starts anew.
I warn you of the end and still
you caustically abuse,
and like the fool, you broke the rule—
adorn a wicked ruse!
The turn is mine to spend as I
see fit to let diffuse.
Your tooth and eye reveal your lie,
my wily, darling muse.
And as the dusk'll take its stance,
what ethic will you choose?
To show no shame and chance my game
means I will watch you lose.
You capped your fate; I do berate—
what bitter, shocking news!
Hate breeds hate, it's gettin' late;
that's quite a nasty bruise.
Free Play: [ 50 ]
. . . [ 00 ]
— GAME OVER —
Thanks for playing!
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