Men abandonin their families,
their souls damaged with each sooty shuffle of the cards,
drinkin up their money,
and dreams,
and problems.
Men gamblin their very own hearts.

Not thinkin, only about
Hollarin and cussin,
And the cold, hard cash,
That’s now their greatest love.

These men all have a different story,
and one poor soul’s lost everything.
While black, hollow eyes antagonize him here,
blue ocean eyes gaze across the barren farm,
their long lashes only waitin for Daddy to come back.

In his ol’ labyrinth,
He’s stuck at a dead end.

By looks,
he’ll be dead soon,
less he wins a dollar or two.