Thursday, January 31, 2019

Africa by PBC

I hear the grinders echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
She's coming in, 12:30 flight
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards unstuuuuuck
I stopped an old man along the way
Hoping to find some long forgotten chips or ancient shitty adviceee
He turned to me as if to say, "Hurry boy, there is a seat to left of the fish waiting there for you"
It's not gonna take a lot to take that stack away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the flops down in Africa
Gonna take some time rake to play the hands we normally wouldn’t 
The nitty grinders cry out in the night
As they grow restless, longing for some 10- handed company
I know that I must do what's right
As sure as Borgata rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this stack that I've attained...

No comments:

Post a Comment