What the hell were you thinking?
What is it that you see
I didn't fancy you to be
the gambler of the century

It's not money or fame
that hides in the shadows
making come ons and promises
from the darkened street corners

It's the control that seduces
and whispers sweet lies
a promise of unending dominion
that will never be cashed

But like the addict within
you hold onto those words
hoping maybe that next hit
your ship will come in

A simple phrase comes to mind
in a blind, desperate attempt
to pull you back to reality
The odds are always
always in favor of the house.