The Pit Boss Is A Pitbull Poem by Eillio Imbasciati

The odds have arrived,
Dressed to kill,
It isn't looking like a safe bet
We need protection,
The pit boss is a pitbull
There are only so many acceptable ideas,
We roll in and right away we're rolling wrong
Set to apply our supposed knowledge,
Didn't apply ourselves properly
Plied with drink, lost our rhythm and lyric
Our cash pried away, we cried anyway
Rocks in our pockets,
Haze in our heads
Nothing to solve now that we're insolvent,
Well, at least the neon lights are nice