[Intro, Slow build progression, instrumental layering; male voice texture, noir organ tone] (Drums kick in…) (Bass slides under…) (Guitar riff cuts sharp…) (Organ swells low…) [Verse 1, steady blues-rock groove, midtempo swing; male vocal, dry close-mic] Everybody at the table knew that somebody wouldn't be leaving alive, Or at least not without some damages, before the night was done, they'd arrive. There was Lucky "The Ghost" Moretti, cool as ice, never sweats the plan, Little Mikey "Fingers" O'Shea, picking locks since the day he began. Biggs "The Bruiser" Malone, shoulders wide as the vault door steel, Sal "The Snake" Ricciardi, who'd sell his own mother for a decent deal. Tommy "Two-Tone" Vasquez, driving the getaway stick with a grin, And Donna "The Dealer" Cruz, who knows where all the bodies have been. [Pre-Chorus, tension lift, ascending progression; layered backing vocals, slight grit] They're not here for the money, or the rep, or the fear in a mark's eyes, They're here 'cause the dice are callin', and the story's the only prize. [Chorus, punchy rock hook, driving groove; gang vocals, doubled lead] 'Cause everybody at the table knows the rules of the game, Where the bullets are plastic, but the glory's the same. We build up an empire, then we tear it apart, Just to sit down together and rip out each other's heart. Yeah, we're all in this family, 'til the campaign's complete, Everybody at the table knows somebody won't leave. [Verse 2, tight rhythm section, bluesy riffing; male vocal, narrative phrasing] The First National Bank on 5th, the alarm was set to blow, Tommy idled the engine, gave the signal, "Let's go." Biggs took the shotgun, Lucky covered the floor, Sal was cracking the safe like he'd done it before. Then the guard got a lucky shot, caught Mikey in the chest, He went down hard, coughing hit points, put to the test. The room went silent, the DM leaned in with a grin, "Mikey, you're bleeding out, make that death save now, my friend." [Pre-Chorus, suspended chords, rising tension; hushed backing vocals] The tension was thicker than cigar smoke in a 1920s club, One roll of the D20 would determine if he'd live or shrug. [Chorus, full band drive, hook emphasis; gang vocals, harmonized lead] 'Cause everybody at the table knows the rules of the game, Where the bullets are plastic, but the glory's the same. We build up an empire, then we tear it apart, Just to sit down together and rip out each other's heart. Yeah, we're all in this family, 'til the campaign's complete, Everybody at the table knows somebody won't leave. [Bridge, stripped arpeggio, slow tempo shift; spoken-sung vocal, soft organ pad] (Guitar arpeggio…) (Organ hum…) The dice hit the felt, a clatter in the air, Twenty-sided fate, laid out bare. A collective breath held, in that dimly lit room, Would Mikey rise from the shadows, or face his doom? It landed... perfect. A natural twenty, bright and clear, Mikey sat up, grinning, "Guess I'm not done yet this year." [Verse 3, darker groove, tension return; vocal bite, tighter phrasing] But the night wasn't over, the script called for a twist, Sal had been planning a double-cross, a name off the list. He'd made a deal with the Feds, a secret he'd kept, To turn on the crew while the rest of them slept. He pulled out his piece, aimed it right at Lucky's head, "Sorry, boys, but this life... well, some of us need to be fed." The table erupted, but the DM raised up a hand, "Sal, roll for initiative. Let's see where you stand." [Narrator Interlude, suspended dissonance, minimal drone; spoken voice, cold tone] (Everything stops…) (Low organ holds…) "Sal... you rolled a 7. Your character is dead." [Outro, relaxed groove return, resolution cadence; warm vocal, light harmonies] So they wrote "Sal the Snake" in the book of the fallen, Another character sheet now torn and withdrawn. But that's the beauty of the game that we play, You can lose all your hit points, but you'll be back next day. 'Cause if the whole crew agrees, and we're willin' to start, We can elect a new campaign, play a brand new part. So grab your dice, grab your sheet, don't you fear what's to come, We'll see ya next week... when the dice start to run. (Final chord rings…) (Cymbal swell fades…)
