Maureen the mean lottery playing machine
when I see her  I mutter something obsene.
sometimes it's seven am on a Saturday morning
and she shows up with no warning.
"ill take a three number on the daily,
I could call her a loser and she can just pay me
behind her there is always a line
and when she buys donuts that's a bad sign
because she's always camping out in her car
And she never goes very far
when she comes back in I can feel my heart sinking
she's my reason to maybe start drinking
"I really have to go shopping"
but not before dropping
more money on tickets  then I make all week
because fortune is what she seeks
she smokes basics but only the hard packs
when she hits the million I hope she doesn't have a heart attack
"these tickets are terrible." she keeps playing
There's a disconnect between what she's saying
and what she does
but that's because
she has a terrible affliction
a gambling addiction
"two brown cash two silver sevens and one golden spin
the odds are stacked against her so she can't win
maybe she can't see
what it looks like to me
she's blinded by a tiny prospect of glory
but sadly this is just one telling of a popular story