Thursday, July 07, 2005

a poorly written poem about something i love

craps, oh craps
how i love you so
my heart beats wildly
when the dice get thrown

shooter, oh shooter
why can't you see
that a lovely hard eight
is all i need

each roll could be a win
if you play the right numbers
a field bet, a craps check
i could stay here the whole summer

my chip stack grows large
and then it dwindles down
would i like another daiquiri?
"yes, please, another round."

when it's my turn to shoot
step away from the table
because a seven before the point
is all that i'm able

craps, oh craps
why do you torture me so
even when i'm down to my last red chip
i still don't want to go

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