Tacoma - Cassino

There’s a clock in a turned-out room

With a never-changing tune

The hands slowly sped as the numbers did

Like a boa turning you blue

A house in disarray

It’s not easier to say

What sunk you here

A junk career or a meter you’d never pay?

A hollow man, a hard-luck tan

Tell me, have you seen this man?

Grown thin and tightly lipped

Tell us what you’ve promised it

There’s a breaker with a burned-up fuse

Buried deep beneath the bruise

There’s no refuge in the will to prove

What you won’t and wouldn’t do

A house in disarray

No one knows quite what to say

It’s a dialect, an unpaid debt

That speaks in collect calls

A hollow gram, a hard luck hand

Tell me, have you seen this man?

Snake bit a rubber band

Prince on unkempt porcelain

A hologram no longer there

Tell me, do you even care?

It’s coming for the next of kin

Tell us what you’ve promised it