TwistedFate

The Lords of Rum, a band of brothers four united by a bottle like none before no bar in the land was ever the same when these brothers four, started playing their games From Waters Edge to AM-PM, united did they stand, everywhere they went, they were like a traveling band from Sinatra to the Beatles, singing songs of old the memories of these nights, though blurry are gold It didn't really matter when or where they would convene, even if the venue was a serene latrine often joined by others, every weekend was epic it's a miracle that nobody ever needed a medic There is one who joined this brotherly convention, a lady of rum who deserves an honorable mention like them, her voice didn't come with volume control but because of that bottle, even she was always on a roll Four brothers and a sister, this clan should go down in history, how Rockland created that magic, is an absolute mystery though now they've disbanded, and gone their separate ways the

Sitting at his desk with his notebook and pen, scribbling down words that rhyme now and then his purpose for writing it was never personal gain but is a means of expressing his infinite pain Some rhymes are good and some are bad, some don't rhyme at all, some rhymes are sad, from his heart filled with emotions so raw and the memories of things he felt and saw A battle hardened warrior, bloodied and all alone sitting in solitude now with his rhymes and tones his friends and family, though they're all surround he lives his life in rhyme, like nobody's around He carries on his back, a weight very heavy, his shoulders are soaked by the tears of many over the years he learned to hold back his own because his were tears that should be shed alone His words are an open window in to his heart, and his life as a writer, with poetry did start but when those words refuse come out right he keeps writing, he doesn't quit without a fight Bad choices and decis

There's an old saying that reads like this, "and then there was one" when you're all that' left there'a always a twist, a lone warrior, who respects all and fears none, You can fight for what you believe in, a cause that you believe is great, a cause for happiness, a reason to grin, one can assume happiness is worth the wait, Now it's his turn to stand alone, like a cowboy with his six gun, walking in the wind, he fights's to win, to regain his throne, to put down his critics and all those fiends, Feeling like a stranger in a strange land, battling silently, this game of life has a tendency to twist, to go out in a blaze of glory, he waits patiently, shooting first and questioning later, with the flick of the wrist, the last outlaw, with a chip on his shoulder, the last man standing will finally decent, a true old school soldier, one day, his sins, he will repent haunted by his past, his heart in a cast, he walks alone, he bears no branding, in his min