Rush in, Roulette!

Every day we walk

The line between being ourselves and a statistic
It's not sadistic to say that our end will come

Today, tomorrow, or far in the horizon

The odds that we are here in this given moment
After every decision we have made
Are very low, and so

We impose invincibility 

Upon all that we know to be true and love
A mourning dove sitting perched
Atop the barrel of a gun 

Rush in, Roulette
Gamble your chances!

We try to enhance our survival
By taking precautionary strides
But at times our toes dip in denial
That from fear we miss living our lives

And I act like I have jurisdiction
Though my lips only sip gin and juice
Never have they truly tasted blood, the horrors

The corridors look so empty

Empathize from fragility of stained-glass towers
Throwing seed bombs in hopes they will grow, and ease
Offer worms and some trinkets to my caged bird brothers
In hopes that one day I'll uncover the keys

Sing for Canaries, their metallic purgatory
Mourning Doves, do not venture into the armory

Rush in, Roulette, have no haste for what's ahead of me
God, give a reason, for the syrup that I bleed!