sonnet.8.6.13.

Yes hes a gambler quitting while ahead
Yet hes a saver stashing cash iron clad
Yes hes a saint who simply goads you glad
Yet hes a ruler knocking rivals dead
Yes he obeys none hes gut feeling led
Yet he looks to me to feel out a fad
Yes he lends his ear when Im sobbing sad
Yet he speaks his mind so intent is read
I know hed care and lend his precious time
And shift an old man shouldered kerb from street
Know his clothes are kept wrinkle free and fine
That hed tip large notes where he went to eat
Ive faith in fancy stuff Im fatalist
And if hes deemed a god he does exist
Chorus fatalist determinist puppet