Now I'm a card in the drink's hand while he keeps smiling
Like he doesn't give a shit in a game that's going badly,
And when death wins he'll scratch his scabby neck
With the greasy card and throw me down on the table
And then I'll just be another one of the cards
In the pile on the fucking table. So what the fuck.
Maybe I passed a mirror, maybe it was these cards, or maybe it was Bush swaggering like a drunkard and talking about "victory over Hezbollah".
:: posted by buermann @ 2006-08-15 13:52:19 CST |