Rules Don’t Apply
by Lord R.e. Taylor
He has been on the road since he was born
It doesn’t matter where it is or what it is made of
Concrete, brick, cobblestone, or red mud
All he wants is a bottle of Jack and four wheels
He was never the kind for a licence
And speed limits are just suggestions
The cops know him, and they like catching him
He just makes an endless game out of it
He is not the kind who likes to lose
After all, the roads were made for him
And he makes the rules
© Poem – XXI/XI/MMXXV
LRET
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