Verse 1 Come on in, son, leave your paycheck at the door We’ve been taking working people since nineteen-fucking-four Dealer’s got a smile and a camera overhead He’ll loan you enough rope, then charge you for the thread Every table’s got a promise, every promise has a price They’ll let you pick the color while they’re loading up the dice You can curse the man beside you, you can swear he made you poor While the bastard with the keys owns every fucking door Pre-Chorus Place your bets Pick your side They don’t give a shit As long as you buy Red chips Blue chips Stack ’em nice and high Everybody gets a choice here… That’s the prettiest fucking lie. Chorus WELCOME INSIDE COME PLACE YOUR BETS THEY’LL TAKE YOUR DOLLAR THEY’LL SELL YOU THE DEBT RED ON THE TABLE BLUE ON THE WHEEL THEY’LL SELL YOU A CHOICE THEN OWN THE WHOLE DEAL You can bitch You can pray You can vote You can spin BUT WHEN THE DOORS CLOSE, MOTHERFUCKER… THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS Verse 2 There’s a preacher by the blackjack and a patriot at craps A millionaire explaining why you’re lucky with the scraps There’s a camera in your face asking who you fucking blame While the dealer changes jackets and keeps dealing the same game They’ll sell you fear for breakfast, righteous anger after dark Keep you staring at your neighbor while they’re carving up the park And every four years somebody swears they’re burning down the place Then they’re drinking with the pit boss before the ink has fucking dried Your rent goes up Your wages crawl Your hospital sends another bill But somewhere past the velvet rope The champagne’s flowing still Chorus WELCOME INSIDE COME PLACE YOUR BETS THEY’LL TAKE YOUR DOLLAR THEY’LL SELL YOU THE DEBT RED ON THE TABLE BLUE ON THE WHEEL THEY’LL SELL YOU A CHOICE THEN OWN THE WHOLE DEAL You can bitch You can pray You can vote You can spin BUT WHEN THE DOORS CLOSE, MOTHERFUCKER… THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS Bridge Strip it down. Bass, kick drum, dirty harmonica. Ever wonder why the dealer Never seems to lose? Ever wonder why you’re screaming At another man like you? He didn’t write the mortgage. She didn’t set your wage. They didn’t buy the senator. They didn’t build the cage. But somebody handed both of you A different colored shirt… Then sold you ringside tickets To watch each other hurt. Pause. And upstairs… Behind smoked glass… They’re counting. Every. Fucking. Chip. Breakdown Loaded dice. House wins. Marked cards. House wins. New face. House wins. New flag. House wins. Change the dealer. House wins. Change the fucking game? Silence. Now you’re talking. Final Chorus WELCOME INSIDE COME PLACE YOUR BETS THEY’VE GOT YOUR PAYCHECK THEY’VE GOT YOUR DEBT RED ON THE TABLE BLUE ON THE WHEEL YOU’RE FIGHTING OVER COLORS THEY OWN THE WHOLE FUCKING DEAL You can bitch You can pray You can vote You can spin BUT WHEN THE DOORS CLOSE, MOTHERFUCKER… THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS Final Chorus / Half-Time THE HOUSE! (Always wins!) THE HOUSE! (Always wins!) You keep choosing colors While they’re cashing your chips THE HOUSE! (Always wins!) THE HOUSE! (Always wins!) Maybe someday we’ll quit asking Which dealer ought to win… And ask who the fuck owns the casino.
