I am a croupier at a casino,
The biggest and richest in New Reno.
Our clientele is, hm, refined,
Sophisticated with a resolute mind,
Very driven by their utmost desire,
To devour your brains until they retire.
Yes, I work at a zombie casino,
Yes, they have taken over New Reno.
Every time a client wins, I deal the winnings:
Push the brain matter at their grinnings.
The baize we’ve treated with the right solution
It won’t get red from the brain pollution.
Grey matter gliding smoothly at the victors
Whose eyes resemble a boa constrictor’s.
It’s bad manners to chow down then and there,
We have a room for the clients where
They enjoy their warm hoard and loot,
All the while wearing a blood-proof suit.
I like the job, it’s light and fun,
The clients tip me and never pull a gun.
And the brains we get are very humane,
Provided by the raiders and their campaign,
They never think that we’d have the means,
To defend ourselves from their marines.
But, I know the casino’s doing well,
Therefore the supply just seems to swell.