They say that the art of love is now expressed through the art of the game
A game of glances and smiles
Rocks, bling, and glasses full of alcohol
Where wingmen take flank on the battlefields of the club or the bar
Using the power of their words in attempt to get a name, a smile, or a number
Or if they’re that good a good night and a messed up morning.
Makes me wonder why the hell am I the sappy romantic?
That in the end the good guy gets the girl from the self serving asshole.
But no.
I guess that’s why I’m writing this letter to you
Whoever you are
That what I think about if I was in that hypothetical thing
Called a relationship with you
That if getting to know you is a game then I want to move my piece the same pace as yours
Every struggle taken side by side
That if you need money to get that house on Broadway I got you
If life has you stuck in a rut I’m there to help you with that flat tire
The number I would roll for you would be two
Consisting of snake eyes
Two black dots on separate ralls of fate that combined makes
you and me staring into a game of chance.
Because love is about taking a chance on that person
Rolling your heart out on a sleeve to be hugged or stabbed
accepted or rebuked
That this chance on you symbolizes that I take you as you are
Not what I would build you up to be like in a game.
That chance on you is for what’s on the table, not come what may.
