They were five bros… five brothers.
Five fingers in the fist of a glove.
The rules they shook to came from no man,
No, these rules were sent from above.
They were so above this and of course above that.
Strolled in like the pile underfoot wasn’t theirs.
Or they’d never ever picked over well picked bones.
Hubris was the knock that stitched them hard with pride,
Ropers from the Fuck You Oh Kay Ranch.
And what they came for, it left with them.
Something else vacated too.
They just took everything they wanted, those guys.
They took everything they could get.
What held these bros fast was sinew and spit
And those logger head beatings from Dad.
They knew all along they would stick together,
No man can go it alone, dad said, someone needs to have your back.
The bros had each other’s back.