I Used To
7 come 11, a little taste of heaven.
Red or black or a black jack.
A little luck or a little knack.
Once it's gone, it ain't comin' back.
The end is always on it's way.
That's the truth, what can you say?
Roll the dice and start to pray.
That tomorrow you've still got play.
All the answered souls have bought their ticket.
To see the show and find their seat.
Lifeless, shadowy trolls say, you can stick it.
Waiting for an answer to their defeat.
Nobody starts out this way.
Nobody always gets their way.
Given a choice, nobody would stay.
In the shadows with no light of day.
I used to think it would be alright.
A hopeful glow used to always be in sight.
I used to, now it just ain't right.
To be so foolish in my hopeless blight.
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