Who cares about Sports?

Sports are the pain and the anguish in my veins, the untiring hunger I have in my mind for that lost friend my blind eyes miss. Is it love or hate that make me question the color of my bedding or the beers I drink, in reality who gives a fuck if my team wins, but why is my life a spider web of poison filled decisions? Only because that lottery ticket is a winner and those box seats are coming my way, or if not god forgive me or atleast my boss, fuck this life it's lost in replay's and a bottle. Give me an ashtray to carry my soul and a dust pan for my shattered heart, the scotch and nicotine may handle the loss of my ability to be social or care about the normalcy that everyone else craves. So if you hate smurfs from april until november and wish they gave paid game day's off join this crazy Panda in a plea towards the dark side of the gambling ticket that decides to be a winner just because I believed hard enough.