My old man used to take me to the track
Showed me how to key the top horse
Sprinkle in some long shots, he’d say
Oh, and son, it takes money to make money
He’d smoke his stoag’, pound his beers
Imploring me with his simple wisdom
Life is way too short not to...
Not to what dad? Just not to
He never played the favorites
Even money is like kissin’ your sister
And win bets?
Well those are for *******
My formula was simple
Name + color + number
Times the square root of lifetime wins
Divided by the odds, plus two
We studied the programs in silence
A father and son crack team
And usually not on purpose
We’d make the same ********* face
I was eleven when I hit my first big one
Trifecta box, because I wasn’t a *****
Paid almost two large
Never made dad more proud
Steak and lobster on my son!
We went to Ruth’s to celebrate
I tipped the waiter a hundred
And fell asleep on the drive home
It’s been over a decade since
And about a dozen girls
Always done after they go down twenty
Always win, place, and show