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A Tribute to Rum 151 By: Christian Owen
We seem to be soldiers of a ghostly path, Trying to gauge the fate our god's wrath. Look to the sky, golden drops from hell fall, Messengers from the great beyond, they do call. Give me the device. The one they call Life's spice. Please don't let me feel this pain. What the hell have I to gain. She Stabs me with her smile, Shrapnel in the flesh, yet I smile. Just might hurt for a long long while. Give me the relief, the one that beams. Make me BIG.. or so it seems. Soldiers in this war's rage, Puppet strings on god's big stage. We are set into motion, Seconds pass with the waves in the ocean. I see myself washed ashore, Broken and beaten because of this damn whore. Give me the device. The one they call Life's spice. Please don't let me feel this pain. What the hell have I to gain. Looking past the great beyond, Survival, of this I am fond. A strong one in my hand, Rum 151 take me from this land. You are the device... You are my life's spice. I know you wont let me feel the pain, Until morning that is... should it come again.
*Author's Note... I never said I was a write, but i thought some you might be able to relate.. Let me know what u think here: Cafe-Chat
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