men play me like a game,
they throw the dice, 
and i wait for the move,
when it comes they throw again,
and leave me at the start.

a piece, a thing,
insignificant and worthless.
moving across the board,
rolling the dice,
throughout my life.

taking each turn away from me,
using me to beat others.
satisfaction is all they need,
to play the game.
they wont be satisfied with second or last,
they only want to win.

they work there way across,
weaving in and out the obstacles.
men play me like a game,
and they are always winning.