Kid, you're jaded, questions evaded,
it's too early and you're faded,
betrayed, can't get laid,
going astray;
press play and stay awhile before you run away again,
bend the lines, mend your mind and nix your need for the next fix,
pixie sticks and crack don't mix, the deck's stacked against you,
meant to wreck you; no rest when the U.S. is the dealer —
Feelin' dead yet? Wanna place your bet?
Race isn't over yet. Read the faces, who's got aces?
The bottles are laced with danger, your head's feeling stranger —
deranged? Arranged conspiracy?
Delirious or nervous or crazy? It's hazy and hard to tell
what the neon signs spell, they're demons' spines tied into lines and lit on fire.
You're a liar, conspiring and hiring lookouts to
cook up your schemes and fuck up your dreams.
Lady Luck sleeps around and drowns her victims —
Sick, or predictable? It's despicable how much you pay her
to stay and belay the inevitable leaden dread;
Hell, you're not dead,
fed sugar and coke and smoking dope, your rope's burning fast,
last chance to advance to the next round, ground's breaking up
you're raking up the tokens, making up dimes and taking up time
which is the same thing.
You're ringing Death's doorbell
and running pell-mell downhill, spilling toxins,
drilling your soul for lockboxes, filling your pockets with rocks.
Knock this time, the door's still closed
Roses are wilting in the Heart Queen's garden.
Startin' to sweat?
Place your bet.

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A/N: Unfinished. But I wanted to get feedback.