[Verse 1: Anatolian-rock male lead, raw wail over heavy rolling drums] Back of the tea house where the checkers clack like teeth Tray of tulip glasses and the smoke curled underneath Fourteen straight Sundays nobody's took my chair Men drive in from the coast just to lose to me there Then a slick one walks in with a ring and a grin Cracks his knuckles at the tavla, says I'm here to win Third game in a row he watched my last checker go And he slapped the board and said your dice are loaded, bro [Hook: Anatolian-rock male lead, full band, overdriven saz] Roll mine, abi, go on and roll mine Shake 'em in your own hand, blow on 'em, take your time Sixes or a double one, it doesn't matter which The dice decide the numbers, and the moves decide who's rich [Verse 2: Anatolian-rock male lead, harder, saz biting] So I slid him both the dice, still warm from my hand I said roll mine, roll yours, roll whatever you can Matter of fact, roll for both of us, you keep the cup You roll my numbers and your numbers and you add 'em up He rolled me double ones and he laughed like a crook And I built a wall of six points like a page in a book He rolled himself double sixes three times in a row And his back men sat there stuck with nowhere left to go [Bridge: Anatolian-rock male lead, quarter-tone bend, the saz bends up between the notes as the last checker comes off] One checker left and the whole room goes still Glasses stop halfway like they're waitin' on my will I lift it off the board and set it on the tray And the saz bends up to a note your scale can't say [Verse 3: Anatolian-rock male lead, full band, raw Anatolian-rock wail] Now the slick one holds the dice up to the lamp like a jewel Turnin' 'em for magnets like the whole room is a fool He paid for every glass of tea in the house that afternoon And the old men laughed so hard they had to steady every spoon You can bring your own dice, bring your lucky shirt and ring Bring a cousin who can count and bring a saint on a string Luck is just the weather, abi, I'm the one who builds the roof And every time you call me crooked, you just roll me more proof [Hook: Anatolian-rock male lead, full band, overdriven saz] Roll mine, abi, go on and roll mine Shake 'em in your own hand, blow on 'em, take your time Sixes or a double one, it doesn't matter which The dice decide the numbers, and the moves decide who's rich [Outro: Anatolian-rock male lead, low and close over the saz] Bring your own dice next time, abi Then roll mine [End]
