Gods, you’re terrible with dice.
Playing, ignoring the price
it costs us all when you roll.
Don’t you know you’re gambling souls?
Your coin is hearts, not diamonds
to be split up for your funds.
You say you’ll share the winnings,
that in the end we’ll be kings.
But when we are merely pawns
forced to play your game in bonds,
our end sees us locked in stocks,
chained and sent to mine the blocks
for building the Capital
where you’ll sit to roll and hedge
your bets against any edge
we could ever hope to gain.
Gods, you’ve caused enough pain -
but we know your weighted die
still beats everything we try.