I`ve won, oh great, la la la la la.
Such easy money, what a great life this is.
Buy some new cloths, a holiday, a life of leisure.
Why work when I can win money for pleasure.
Bugger I`ve lost, lost again, lost again, I`ve lost.
Lost all my money, my home, my job, the life I thought was free of cost.
I cant stop trying to win again.
The urge.
The relentless need.
The trappings that has transformed, now not the joy of winning anymore, nor for leisure or even for pleasure, but for need.
This need that is now a quest to win just for need.
I want help to stop, to empower you over my will, to take my grief and the sorrow that I feel.
To hear my hard luck story with a sobbing tone. Pathetic Anonymous are the ones to phone. Where losers are gathered and meet to discuss, the way the die was never with us.
They will help.
Help that lays no blame on the weak.
Or hopefully just help to stop this losing streak.
They are here to help, but not for the winners.
You get no winners here, no winners in this gathering of those, that wished they could have gained what was gleamed before their awful woes.
The winners stay away, only losers here.
This cry for help.
Sinking to the depths of despair with the aura of no more joy, no more hope, no more grinning.
These feelings would not be here if I was still winning.
