The playing cards cut, the Poker’s too hot,
all greyhounds are black, that horse cannot trot,
these fresh fruit machines are rotten inside,
your roulette wheel’s chatter has lied and lied.
System and method are not the same
and when money’s involved it’s not just a game
of double your money, double or quits
but The Battle Of Bills versus War Of The Wits.
You need them about you in order to play,
but as cash disappears your wits run away,
while the bills stick around; start shouting in red
’til your life’s just a mist that fills up your head.
This is addiction; that terrible need
to live off the buzz of the fear and the greed,
to find an escape by submerging the pain
in a mess of denial dressed up as gain.
Tomorrow arrives and you just HAVE to win,
to turn off the noise of the bills in the bin,
the lonely despair, the cost of each bet,
to the mad helpless catch of addiction’s dread net.
But this isn’t working, you’re back at a start
full of snakes made of ladders taken apart.
Nothing makes sense and you’re dying to lose
in order to not have the pressure to choose.
Now think of number, divide it by ten,
grind it to powder, discard it and then
think how it would feel to be free of the guilt,
the stress, the despair, the life that’s been spilt.
Think of a future when you’re in control,
not chancing on luck, not selling your soul.
It seems like a gamble, but add up the cost
and it’s nothing compared to the gambles long lost.
Even with nothing, the odds can be changed,
your life turned around, friends rearranged;
with help and support you’ll find that the game
no longer depends on money or blame.
It’s back in your hands to choose what to do:
Now let those who love you, let you choose you.