Sons Of Hell

 

To a man they would be king
In need of little save something
To eat and drink and smoke and ride
Young men hearts bursting with pride
These motorcycle superstars
Who flying colours travelled far
Would fight and fuck and fight some more
Held scant regard for peace and law...
With boot and fist and blade and chain
Laid waste and left all foes in pain
A lifetime riding with the pack
And Sons Of Hell upon their back
In denim rancid aged and torn
All soaked in oil and blood and scorn
This hoard from hell with thunderous roar
Would swarm and strike in lust of war
With havoc cries and flash of steel
These war dogs fierce would spin and reel
In dance macabre the music, screams
Of broken bones and broken dreams
Till once again the battle won
And engines singing demons song
They roar away into the night
Then gathered safe review the fight
Amid the laughter smoke and beer
The Sons Of Hell deride and jeer
Those would be warriors acting tough
Who turned out nowhere good enough
To wear the hallowed one percent
Not understanding what it meant
Deservedly they crashed and burned
In violence painful lesson learned
Meanwhile the Sons Of Hell drink on
Till all semblance of sense is gone
Soon laughter drugs and alcohol
Will sooth the soul behind the wall
That each erects in self defence
From living lives of violence
Now those among us turning grey
We are the ones who paved the way
These thirty years gone by and more
Still full of fight we fear no war
We look around and know with pride
These younger men with whom we ride
Will keep our legacy alive
The Sons Of Hell, born to survive