Sir Angola RockanRolla: An Epic Story

 Sir Angola RockAnRolla

 

Let me introduce you to Sir Angola RockAnRolla

Always with a beer in his hand, never tried a cola

born and raised in the middle of a zombie apocalypse

Learned the tricks of surviving in a world of creeps

Where he got his name, I can’t recall

Maybe from an old dirty map he had on his wall.

 

Through the years he did his best

to become a bastard with a taste.

Big Elvis toupee made of macramé,

leather black jacket with 100 bullet holes

and a bike made with his enemies’ bones.

Listening to rock and roll

A Golden Promise… really cold!

and watching old action movies were his world.

He learned to play guitar by ear

And always carried his fender on his rear

In case inspiration kicked

or had to take care of some Zees.

That’s how he called the putrid kind.

Two blades attached to each side of his guitar,

Worked perfect to slice them fine.

Even though he avoided any human contact

He promised himself to find a cure

Locate his undead mother and save her sure

Although he never cared about the rest:

zombies were like homeless with endless thirst,

humans had nothing to offer

but misery, hate and pain.

After all, cataclysm was for them to be blamed

It was during one of his tours everything changed

Crossed ways with a bunch of suppurating grinds

about to eat a young girl’s brain

A guitar stroke and a perfect swing did the work

Now she was free to go.

But she begged him to take her with him

“I saved your life. Careful next time...”

He was trying to be kind...

When something stopped him on his tracks

As she turned around and reveal her face under the light

He’d never seen someone such bright

Like sunshine coming from her eyes

Angola stood there with nothing to say

While a bloody mess was still dripping from his guitar blades

Tried with a creepy smile for a start

Needed practice but wasn’t that bad

Miss Naples was the name she had

How she broke the ice I can remember

No hesitation, direct but tender

Miss Naples

“Hey you, RockAnRolla!”

“Pass me a beer and sing me a song with a soula”

Threw her a beer can,

Rock IPA landed on her hand

Struck a chord

Gasped and began to make it work

Words were coming from his mouth

As he was playing the tune

All about the world he knew

He kept rockin’ without fear

Or maybe he was not thinking clear

Drifting away from his primal goal

Day by day he began to feel…love?

This meant change

Not that he got engage

The world was a different place now

Full of color and beautiful sounds

But there was still one thing to share

One little detail Miss Naples was not aware

Angola wasn’t just a man

he was alive alright

but already dead on the other hand...

She knew there was darkness inside Angola

Every day he moved a little slower

Drifting away from his laws had a price

You can’t sing love and that everything is nice

A deep pain where he should have a heart

started to eat the man alive .

One day he dropped his guitar and fell on his knees

Look at Miss Naples, “Darling, please!”

Fainted and plunged dead

But this couldn’t be the end

Miss Naples ripped off his shirt in one blow

And saw nothing but a hole

Dark and deep was the damage

And it was eating Rolla like he was cabbage

In a quick move she opened her torso

Stuck her hands inside her chest and pulled out her ticker

Big, bloody and shinny

That lady had a gracious flicker

Took a moment to think about the best thing to do

“Got it!”, she said to herself, and she tore the organ in two

“Half for me and half for my luvva”

Placed it in. ¡Fit like a glove!

Sir Angola woke up from the coma

Now he had a big scar on his body

That meant he had a heart but still a little sloppy.

Few days later he was riding his bike again

But now attached to his back

A love that will always keep away the rain

No more killing, no more emptiness.

Lot’s of rock, power and... a beer?...Yesss!