Ode to life’s chances

I think that I’m a failure ‘cos I can’t win the game;
I get the Tatslotto numbers wrong, no matter where I aim.
I thought I was a winner but it seems I’m meant to fail,
And without it how’ll I ever get the boat I want to sail?
I guess my life has been defined by numbers on a screen
and so I’ll live in obscurity, without what could have been.
I could’ve been so many things if my numbers had come up;
I could have been a tycoon – drunk from a golden cup.
But instead I sit here penniless with a cup made out of clay
and wonder what my world would be if I went another way.
I don’t know if I want to be like most rich folk who I’ve seen
I think I like just who I am and that’s not rich and mean.
So stuff your numbers up your jumper, I’m happy here and now;
But of course if I should win it one day, I’ll accept it anyhow.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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