Poor player's tricks are falling out of necessity For I can hear him stalling, to satisfy his greed He wants you all to realize, he's got it all worked out Empty thoughts come tumbling out of his crooked mouth That's what I expect from a no name bastard son The kind whose speech makes conversations come undone You'd never feel like there's anything wrong with you You know that it's the truth He strangles thoughts to figure out Which lesson he should preach when in doubt When he don't know what to say He finds words to fill the blanks in every way