She got dealt a bad hand in life.
But she didn’t fold.
She kept playing.
She didn’t walk away from the table,
And leave the casino like she should have.
She keeps playing the hand life dealt her.
And she’s slowly going into debt.
Deeper in the game until one day she won’t be able to play anymore.
She’ll be out of money.
Out of cards.
I just pray it doesn’t come to that.
I want her to fold.
Leave the table.
Leave that lifestyle behind her.
Count her losses and move on with her life.
There’s more to life than that hand that life dealt her.
I just wish she could sober up long enough to see it.
I just wish she could see that there’s so much more to life than the hand that she was dealt.

an old, decayed mine, far from civilization
psychotic warriors occupy alleys, resolutely
this here is their last match, the death match
only one survivor remains, bloodbath

walls are covered with intestines and *****
fuckburst killed five, a female voice moaning:
double ****, multi ****, mega ****, ultra ****!
each increase is arousing our speaker

unreal tournament, land of fun and gore
your addiction is called "flag canon",
"rocket launcher" or "monster ****"
i'm all in now, no worries, no regrets

bloodshed covers you in bloodred
but i don't know the truth, barktooth
we are drinking silver-blue fantasies
as bullets spraypaint your apartment

you switched the game off, but the
monsters are attacking you, warrior
vibrating echoes and their dark voices
in rainbows, in rockets, in repetitions

shadows eat up your courage
motionless, swooshing swoosh
you are trapped inside their thoughts
no chance to escape, you get crazy

Here I am
once again..
It's 3 a.m
a rhyming game...

Daylight conventions taught
dictates all the 'ought's,
I couldn't pour a daylight thought
against the conventional odds.

An acquaintance, he died,
Sympathy I tried;
Empathy I tried;
but my feelings were dried.

I wonder why,
did I cry?
Not out of sadness
but of emptiness.

3 a.m is too good a time,
where the air is sublime,
to be wasted on sleeping
instead of weeping.

3 a.ms often make me wonder
if age is really just a number
on a waiting lift to mortality
or a mere human banality.

Here I am again
pouring my pain
for no gain
playing the 3 a.m rhyming game.

Be not to be

Like not to like

The same old song

Replayed in time

The same old game

In which i am played

By golden lies

That wax and wane

Falling to rise

To sprout as life

O morning flair!

Come new red light

Just show me how

To fight this fight

Unknot the knot

Untie what's tied

That one makes two

And two makes one

That nothing's wrong

When all is done.

My sister won her soccer game
Now the whole school will know her name

Tomorrow she plays Sherwood
This should be good

I hope she wins
Cause I want to see her grin

I fought.
In the battle ground.
I surrendered.
In my own game.
I lost.
In the arena of life.

Game Of Thrones,
Game Of Thrones,
Game Of Thrones,
The hero for me was Tyrion Lannister,
He always tried to do what was right,
The small man with the great noble heart,
He knew the dragon queen was insane like her father,
So who sits on The Iron Throne?
Tyrion Lannister,
Tyrion Lannister,
Tyrion Lannister.