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My Broken Hand
I play my broken hand,
I play it,
Play my broken hand,
My broken hand...
I hold it
closer to my chest,
While the Sun's
sunk 'gain in the West;
Stakes tossed
all over the table,
My suit sags
a tight-rope cable.
Pray a pen
in my mangled clutch,
Or better,
my most desir'd touch:
Fingers 'pon
lips of a woman;
Peace restored,
need no broom, no pan.
I play my broken hand,
I play it,
Play my broken hand,
my broken hand...
I rasp it
over dry paper,
Confident
this Hope won't taper;
No more of
my disastrous luck,
Like that wall
my clenched fist struck.
Eyes stealing
each others' gazes,
Too late to
regret failed raises,
What more is
there still left to fear?
The Joker's
always somewhere near.
I play my broken hand,
I play it,
I play my broken hand,
I play it...
As the Jack
whispers, "Smoke's hollow.",
'Cross table,
my Queen's to follow,
'Companied
by a backing band.
Time's come for
the card's to be fanned.
Blot the ink,
toss a bit of sand;
Strange winnings,
hard to understand.
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