How does it turn,
who rolled the die on your name?
Were you there when it creaked and stopped?
No? Me neither what a shame.
Who blows the wind,
who stocks and switches my dreams?
Whoever held a river in his palm,
who ever cut the little streams?
Is there a source,
do we walk to it or away?
The landmarks can see you
turning night and day.
Yet nobody loses
for long around here
The winners are easy to tell
but losers, don't fear.
You will live as well,
you will have your girl,
and money to feed her ass,
and vase and crockery to hurl.
Beware, what goes around is lost.
And although you've all along tried,
the toss that turns in the sun does never
know or choose the winning side.