Seven Years Left 

by Mike Defendant 

I'm betting on this horse that's coming last. I'm with the underdog, bottom of the class. 

All this luck that I have had, has only been the kind that's bad. Mirrors breaking in my sight.

Seven years left of not feeling right. Scared to listen, scared to go. What awaits me, I don't know. 

 

As three black cats come and cross my path, Im stuck here with the aftermath. The raven and it's croaking call, you can hear it over all.

This white lighter sparks my smokes, it's frowned upon by many folks. Ill take it to my resting place, with a smile on my face.