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your hips are swaying and your eyes are saying that you need two gamblers for this game you're playing, and i might want you, but i don't need you and you won't sleep in my bed anymore, it seemed like a dead-end ta seven years after seven to sing for this country instead of raven or venom, cuz your god was dead then and he's never been back again, and i don't think about it anymore, yeah, it's a gamble when your fingers bum from the last time that you flew and bled and ' the shadows that you walk around will still be there when the sun goes down. venus fly trap, 20 yeare now. and the chance is just te is fat as a union bureaucrat that the life you wanna live ain't the one you're looking at. there's more risk in a brain cell than any vegas hotel and you can't find the pit-boss anywhere.
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