The poets took their papers
And they burned them on the streets
Hey threw them in the fire
And they danced around the heat
Cause the fire the burns inside is not the one they think they need.
They opened up their windows
In the middle of the storm
They emptied out their wallets
And they jumped into the swarm.
Cause they're better off wearing rags than a uniform.
So this is how it goes
The poets take the show
Stay for the afterglow.
We can make amends
Opinions they can bend
Because I thought you were my friend.
They looked into the mirror
And the mirror looked back
They turned off all the lights
And the mirror turned black
Cause the only light they need, is the light behind their eyes.
They looked up at each other
As they came out of the pit
They buried all the matches
And then took out what was lit
And the poets shook their heads as they walked into the show.
So the city's getting cold
The kids are going home
What they say will be carved in stone.
And as the years go by
Blake will start to cry
His face replaced by the youth each time.
Drop pen,
Your words, your thoughts
They don't matter.
Your monologues
They don't matter.
I don't care even if you do.
Your poetry it don't matter,
Your poetry it won't matter,
Can you hear me?
Am I still speaking english?
