miorpio 2

Verse 1

In a tavern beyond the world’s last border,

Where the lamps burn with an unearthly gold,

Lives a god who wagers with silent order,

On destinies the prophets never told.

He shuffles stars like worn-out tarot,

Sets kingdoms down with a gambler’s grin—

For every wager lost or narrow,

A universe begins again.

Chorus

Oh, the god who gambles with shadows,

Throwing dice in the halls of time;

We are numbers beneath his windows,

We are echoes of his rhyme.

And the coin he flips forever

Has no face and has no fall—

For chance and fate together

Are the mirrors in his hall.

Verse 2

He wagers souls as if they were stories,

Half-forgotten on a dusty shelf;

He laughs at heroes chasing glory,

For the hero is but a bet with himself.

In labyrinths of smoke and meaning,

He hides the door that has no key;

All truths are dreams his hand is weaning

From the womb of eternity.

Bridge

Some say he's blind, some say he’s seeing—

Some swear he’s nothing but our fear;

Yet in each coin toss of our being,

His whisper is what brings us here.

A book unread, a life unfolding,

A hand of cards we never chose—

All are but wagers he is holding,

Till the final tables close.

Chorus

Oh, the god who gambles with shadows,

Throwing dice in the halls of time;

We are numbers beneath his windows,

We are echoes of his rhyme.

And the coin he flips forever

Has no face and has no fall—

For chance and fate together

Are the mirrors in his hall.

Outro

So drink a toast to the ancient dealer,

To the quiet god behind the game—

For though the void grows ever nearer,

He whispers every player’s name.

And if you lose, or rise in splendor,

Know luck is just his dialect—

A subtle script he alone can render,

In the library of the imperfect.