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It’s the thousand years of beautiful history, really, that draws me to the casino.
[It’s just another quarter.
Just one more.]
Sure, the flashing lights and glitzy lifestyle’s not so bad either,
—But it’s the history, the history that makes it so beautiful—
[It’s just one more.
Just twenty-five cents.
What’s one more quarter?]
From small pox to alcohol and the walk of tears to Wounded Knee,
We hounded them.
[There were so many more.]
Like pirates we raped, pillaged and plundered,
And now we just stand by as we watch their solemn faces and lost ideals
With their suit made up of one more of my quarters.
It’s that irony that, I suppose, makes it so beautiful.
It’s also the allure of success.
I once hit it big,
It can happen again.
[It could happen again.]
But it isn’t.
[I won’t let it.]
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