Literature
The bookshelves are stacked with a million more pages to read
I take it upon myself
To engage in the works of the many of authors around me
And this cultural mind of mine
Soothed by the writings of Shakespeare and lore
I grow weary of labor spent down at the store
And I don't want nothing more
Than to rest in my quarters with literature in my hand
Til the sun comes at dawn
Then get up get dressed
It's time to go back to the stand
Please don't make me go
The library grows cold with its customers absent
I stand here alone not wisely my time spent
And I don't want nothing more
The menagerie is coming down
Rubble of art is on the ground
Why can't you just see
Beyond all this disarray
The literature is burning now
Fire is the only sound
Why can't you just see
Forget all this misery
And the land is burning
Conscious yearning
And to keep from turning
The people are burning
The people are burning
The people discerning
The bookshelves are littered with dust from the stillest air
I take it upon myself
To revive the works of the authors of time that's past
Their art not left in vain
To be left upon the shelves their names lost within the rows
Filled with the stories that nobody will know
And I just need something more
The menagerie is coming down
Rubble of art is on the ground
Why can't you just see
Beyond all this disarray
The literature is burning now
Fire is the only sound
Why can't you just see
Forget all this misery
The menagerie is coming down
Rubble of art is on the ground
Why can't you just see
Beyond all this disarray
The literature is burning now
Fire is the only sound
Why can't you just see
Forget all this misery
I take it upon myself
To engage in the works of the many of authors around me
And this cultural mind of mine
Soothed by the writings of Shakespeare and lore
I grow weary of labor spent down at the store
And I don't want nothing more
Than to rest in my quarters with literature in my hand
Til the sun comes at dawn
Then get up get dressed
It's time to go back to the stand
Please don't make me go
The library grows cold with its customers absent
I stand here alone not wisely my time spent
And I don't want nothing more
The menagerie is coming down
Rubble of art is on the ground
Why can't you just see
Beyond all this disarray
The literature is burning now
Fire is the only sound
Why can't you just see
Forget all this misery
And the land is burning
Conscious yearning
And to keep from turning
The people are burning
The people are burning
The people discerning
The bookshelves are littered with dust from the stillest air
I take it upon myself
To revive the works of the authors of time that's past
Their art not left in vain
To be left upon the shelves their names lost within the rows
Filled with the stories that nobody will know
And I just need something more
The menagerie is coming down
Rubble of art is on the ground
Why can't you just see
Beyond all this disarray
The literature is burning now
Fire is the only sound
Why can't you just see
Forget all this misery
The menagerie is coming down
Rubble of art is on the ground
Why can't you just see
Beyond all this disarray
The literature is burning now
Fire is the only sound
Why can't you just see
Forget all this misery
Credits
Writer(s): Colby Adams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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