He Was To and Has Lost the Bet

Strumming woes invade the greek pysche filled with ego and eid three fingers wilted on the hands of destiny, tap mysteriously the mind lid about to explode and summit like volcano , unknown as to its type fate lines meander ,criss cross and form irregular hypes crass brass of acts, shame the simpleton as he breaks into painful smile never ever will that error be executed, he cries shoutingly cannot retrace back that, is what kills so humungously what an idiotic time that was when he bet fortune on the loosing ,weak and unknown jockey and horse set he was to and has lost the bet.