Open up your eyes, the guardians have left our country
Gentlemen are soft and stony elegance makes light of purity
On balance it's a mystery, obscurity has got you down
Chase the flying bat-rat ponies, race the blown-up,
bean-counter wannabe pinups in a finkish world
the poets whine, the poets twirl their metaphors for old cat nosehair
someone soon will want to buy it
and all the while their numbers grow like credit cards
Who wants to be the griot, town crier, Grand Vezir
And give your life of snow-white fingers and lazy arms
When no one's listening to you
You want to move me, you want to move me
Oh, speak to me of curly clovered green winds of your childhood's
Sinful, dazed, holy and mortified
Blacked-out smiling, bunkered and cup-froze
Snore-in-your-breadline POV
Till they can't help but see ya (wouldn't wanna be ya)
You call them on the way they go and take it on
(what fools these mortals be)
my tongue is tired and silence is suspect
The muse you use is drowning by the minute
The muse you cruise could pass you when you're in it
Like .04 I'm past the legal limit
I ain't 22 and I don't got a gimmick
Say, what you gonna leave?
And those who know will grow to write for
"Someday This Will All Be Over" magazine
- 专辑:The Glory of Man Is Not in Vogue
- 歌手:Mudville
- 歌曲:Poets on Parade