The Player

A piece of wood and fifteen colored balls are all I know,
And I've been living in this rut so long I can't let go.
I've been living off the land. Some people say I'm free.
But if I don't quit these fifteen-colored ball will bury me.

I grew up in the dirty city streets without a dime.
And upstairs in that hustler's lair is where I spent my time,
Racking balls to earn my keep, picking up the trade,
Winners, losers, suckers, boozers, is how the game was played.

I was only seventeen when I went on the road,
Playing nine-ball dawn till dawn I'd watch the money grow.
Now and then I'd race to ten, giving up the eight.
A spot for action is the price you pay for being great.

Still when in that dirty, dingy, motel room I sit
I think about the life I lead and know that I can't quit.
The devil's game is in my blood and it won't give me rest,
For deep within my heart and soul I know that I'm the best.

A piece of wood and fifteen colored balls are all I know,
And I've been living in this rut so long I can't let go.
I've been living off the land. Some people say I'm free.
But if I don't quit these fifteen-colored ball will bury me.