What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?

Behind locked doors the Gamblers dare
to cast our fates without a care.  
Like puppeteers they pull our strings
and use us as a child’s playthings.  

Upon the tables of the gods,
with wagers cast at any odds,
they stand us up in serried rows,
then knock us down like dominoes.