The Hand I Was Dealt

My former mentality.

The Hand I Was Dealt

 

You see, I’m only playing the hand I was dealt.

I’ve been rolling set dice my whole life, chasing my point like that

elusive first high.

My soul is on the line and I’m flipping a two-headed coin and calling

tails every time.

I’m just playing the hand I was dealt.

I left my bible in my backpack, but I got my gun tucked in my belt.

I’m a 3-time off ender, a career criminal.

My record is slow-song long, my jacket is thick like a Triple-Fat Goose.

I’m a faithful fugitive with no future and I keep a few felonies folded

up in my front pocket right next to a picture of my girl and a quarter-ounce

of ‘that boy.’

Yeah, you heard me, I’m still riding dirty.

The streets root for me like I’m Rocky Balboa running full speed,

crowds of caught-up kids right behind me, waiting for me to run out

of breath, callously claiming, they got next, but I ain’t done yet.

I’m still playing this hand I was dealt

Snake Eyes!

That 3-bang knock, teams of cops with red beams on their glocks

screaming … STOP!

But. I Can’t. Go. Back.

Back to chow lines and count times, hard looks and smut books,

random urine tests and 8-foot slums, hidden razors cutting my gums.

I’m playing this hand out!

I’m asking for a hit with 17 showing.

I’m drawing too late into an inside straight.

I’m flipping that same coin and I swear on everything I love, it better

come up tails this time.

I’m not folding!

I’m taking the safety off my gun and looking into the wide eyes of a

nervous cop.

His trigger-finger itching, almost like he’s wishing that I’ll place my

bet, that he can play Russian when I spin the roulette.

He wants me out of the game, laid to rest.

He wants me in a dark suit, my hands folded on my chest,

my face caked up with make-up.

My girl at my viewing screaming,

BABY, WAKE UP!

Her hot tears falling on my cold cheeks like summer storm raindrops

landing on glass.

But, I’m playing this hand out.

I can’t fold now!

I’m picking 12 jurors that silently sit in the cold casing of a .40 caliber

clip.

I got a 50/50 chance and guess what?

I’m taking it!

I love the odds, so I defy the Gods and bet all that I have on me

being fast enough

To pull my ----

BOOM!

Damn! Heads again!

Well, at least the whole world will know how I felt

‘cause my tombstone will read:

HE PLAYED THE HAND HE WAS DEALT!!!!