The hustler is driver behind the wheel of his cue,
His gloved hand guides its gentle rocking,
Until it is sent whipping through another rack...
The monkey sits each evening in the river,
The human just a monkey in science,
The hard days come to make us feel it...
You walk down the street with camera in hand,
You see him on a streetlight and say,
Who is that man...
Ships on the Horizon
You say thier ships are on the horizon,
But we can see through yours,
The horizon is home only to angels...
The gambler is blinded by his greed,
Muted by the battle of risk and luck,
Forced to surrender to the will of the table...