The old man is a player
A master at the game.
He finds no pleasure in it
But he plays it just the same.

Gone is a pleasant future
He’ll have no loving wife.
The game is full of sorrow
The game is now his life.

People on the outside
Think he’s doing well
each day a set of minutes
Each night a living hell

See him there upon his throne?
Where did the good life go?
He thought he’d die a winner
What little did he know.

I bet you think I hate you,
but darling that’s not true.
I hate the way you lie,
and everything you do.
I hate the way I look at you,
and you look up to the sky.
I hate the way you don’t care,
and all I do is try.
I hate it when you set me up,
just to watch me fall.
I hate the way you smile inside,
when you ignore my call.
I hate the way you laugh at me,
And all the things I do.
You were everything to me,
Everything but true.

A young man is a player
Becoming master at the game
He soon grows old and weary
Girls don’t look at him the same

It’s then that he goes a hunting
He says it’s with his heart
But it’s a different meat he is seeking
As the game becomes an art

For that thing that he needs most
Is A love to lean upon
But when adoring eyes cast upon him
Like him his chance was gone

Now he seeks a certain softness
I love to lighten the way
But in his youth and foolishness
He gave his chance away

I lay awake at night
But that’s alright.
Sometimes it’s the thing to do.

You know my hands are tied
All the lies you lied.
Now I can’t be with you.

Like a yielded knife
You cut through my life
As it died I grew.

You were the man to love
We fit like a glove.
Another lie it’s true.

So I walked away
Live another day
And I pray for you.

Already on the phone
Not gonna sleep alone.
A player through and through.