You may want what you ain't got
You may think it's what you need
But here's a little secret
The rich go out like you and me

And it ain't always pretty
When you drop right where you are
Be it in the lap of luxury
Or the ditch of a poor mans world

Cause when death comes a-knocking
He don't give a lick of what you own
Your possessions don't mean nothing
When what he wants is your hardened soul

You have had your fun and games my friend
Now it's Mr. Sickle's time to ride
You can try and shift the blame  on them
As he grabs a-hold your hide

Squeezing tight your beating heart
Till there ain't no juices left
Closes the betting window
On what was your last bet