I'll put it all on 44 black, let it ride. He rose on the backs of liars, thieves, and murderers. But i've grown so stagnant and apathetic, through the decay of flesh or the weight of time. The illusion of hope has slipped from my mind, and from this armchair... and from the pulpit.. And for the outstretched hands of millions, so spin the roulette. Not all, but some. Not many, but few, not belief, but hope, in a spark..an effort made...Something, spiraling down, hemorrhages abound. Shore it up with money, and prop it up with hope. What hope?