- Joined
- Feb 10, 2025
- Messages
- 71
- Reaction score
- 20
- Points
- 143
Oh, the felt is trembling, chips stack low today,
A storm of blinds is rising, gonna sweep my dreams away.
The bubble’s close, it’s breathing, I can feel its bitter sting,
Gimme, gimme shelter, or I’ll bust on every swing.
War, cards, it’s just a flip away, it’s just a flip away,
.
The tables hum with chaos, aces crack like thunder’s call,
My stack’s a fading shadow, short and pressed against the wall.
Week on week, I’m grinding, chasing prizes in the fray,
But the bubble bursts my hopes—oh, I’m one short every play.
War, cards, it’s just a flip away, it’s just a flip away,
The dealer’s eyes are cold now, luck’s a fire burning thin,
MTTs keep bubbling, and I’m caught in fate’s cruel spin.
Raise or fold, I’m pleading, for a hand to save my soul,
Gimme, gimme shelter, ‘fore this game takes full control.
Floods of busts, they drown my fight today,
Gimme, gimme shelter, or I’ll fade away.
But there’s a spark, a whisper, in the final desperate shove,
A chance to turn the tables, maybe luck’s a kind of love.
It’s just a flip, a river, one last shot to break the chain,
Gimme, gimme shelter—let me cash and ease the pain.
A storm of blinds is rising, gonna sweep my dreams away.
The bubble’s close, it’s breathing, I can feel its bitter sting,
Gimme, gimme shelter, or I’ll bust on every swing.
War, cards, it’s just a flip away, it’s just a flip away,
.
The tables hum with chaos, aces crack like thunder’s call,
My stack’s a fading shadow, short and pressed against the wall.
Week on week, I’m grinding, chasing prizes in the fray,
But the bubble bursts my hopes—oh, I’m one short every play.
War, cards, it’s just a flip away, it’s just a flip away,
The dealer’s eyes are cold now, luck’s a fire burning thin,
MTTs keep bubbling, and I’m caught in fate’s cruel spin.
Raise or fold, I’m pleading, for a hand to save my soul,
Gimme, gimme shelter, ‘fore this game takes full control.
Floods of busts, they drown my fight today,
Gimme, gimme shelter, or I’ll fade away.
But there’s a spark, a whisper, in the final desperate shove,
A chance to turn the tables, maybe luck’s a kind of love.
It’s just a flip, a river, one last shot to break the chain,
Gimme, gimme shelter—let me cash and ease the pain.
