Bet

The time has come, and it's out of control

the hand was weak, but I'm not ready to fold

Not ready to lay down my arms and needs

Not ready to give in to the defeat of my dreams

I tell you, I'm standing with my flag in the air

I'm the first Lunar landing, stopping time on a dare

Taking up the gauntlets of the women before me

Letting my girls know that it's not who adores me

It's the ghosts of the blood that races my veins

It's the shrieks of joy and sorrow and pain

and digging the earth for the Irish potatoes,

and forgiving the causes for so many betrayals

and knowing this zit, that tit, this fat

This freckle, this dimple, this ratatatat

This drumbeat of the ancients that courses it's way

and the patience of patients who won't see another day...

Is the work of a master blaster of the highest degree

The genius on the shoulders of a mammoth dummy.

I'm taking the bet, I'm pulling my brows,

I'm letting you think that you know the low down

I've pushed all my chips and am playing the game

It's not what I win, or even the fame I'm pursuing

It's just doing it, and living it, and being it, and feeling it,

and knowing I may be, different, I may be

Less feminine than you think I should,

Less In constraints that a Southern girl should

Less pretty pretty mealy mouthed

Less inclined to keep quiet when everyone shouts

Less ready to let you manipulate the odds

Less ready to fold when the game's not the cards.

I'm not going to call, not going to fold

I'm going to be what I am. Bold.