Marco DiLeonardo Art

I've been wrong all along.
Using this shitheart to make bad decisions one beat at a time.
Holding tight to personal relics that mean nothing to anyone.
Driving miles over black ice and dismal trash.
Packed in with dirty laundry and awfully cold cards.
The road is no place for split decisions.

All this snow and feeling so alone.
Drying socks over stoves and mending ways.
Left asking myself to check or fold.
When all I've wanted was to bet the farm and watch it burn.
I should cheer for another crisis that's been averted.
That's the problem with wanting what you already have.

Eventually local routes change.
No one sees the incredible progress we've made.
It rolls out like a fog and goes on like a light, every single night.
Today my victory has finally been realized.
Yet I can't tell because I rely on this bleeding shitheart.
The one twisting in my chest that now tells me to go all in.