O Fortuna, why must you fill my pocket with lint
In this game we call cards, can you give me a hint?
Ignore me all you want I know you are there
When you hand me a fate that just isn't fair
My hand almost never has a queen or an ace or a king
But I often see a deuce as tunes of mockery you sing
Deuce seven, deuce eight, deuce nine, deuce jack
Those lead to wasted time I shall never get back
Time better spent in a store by the street
Purchasing chips I can actually eat
But I digress as I regress with respect to my finances
I yearn for success but Fortuna denies me all chances
Duece deuce deuce i get more trash than a landfill
If matters do not improve I shall surely feel ill
Sometimes despite the deuce I place a deceptive bet
But every time my ruse is betrayed by my sweat
When dealt a pair of aces I was shocked and said, "Hooray"
Then bet a lot but alas nobody wanted to play
Today my losses in dollars were exactly eight eight
But I am not at fault I blame the deuces dealt by fate
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