The Death of the Poet (Or, No Rhyme or Reason: How Bad Poetry Can Become Good Music)
Often, in the middle of no time
There can be a sudden burst
Of an energy foreign, but sublime
From the get-go, ready to reverse
From a place, designed
Rooms emptied, abandoned
Far into a life resigned
Dazed, confused by disappointment
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
Standards forsaken long ago
Rooms are emptied, abandoned
Far into a life plateaued
Dazed, unlike the life imagined
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
Perhaps you wonder why
No poets now find the right words
Bond with vague ideas that I
Sing until it begins to hurt
When two souls get to know
When it is good and true
Animals rest, and slow
Are born again, anew
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
There can be a sudden burst
Of an energy foreign, but sublime
From the get-go, ready to reverse
From a place, designed
Rooms emptied, abandoned
Far into a life resigned
Dazed, confused by disappointment
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
Standards forsaken long ago
Rooms are emptied, abandoned
Far into a life plateaued
Dazed, unlike the life imagined
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
Perhaps you wonder why
No poets now find the right words
Bond with vague ideas that I
Sing until it begins to hurt
When two souls get to know
When it is good and true
Animals rest, and slow
Are born again, anew
And if it was possible to know
And it was too good to be true
Animals hungered by emptiness grow
When left with options so, so few
Credits
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Other Album Tracks
- Antique Lands
- The First Six Days of the Year
- What God Can Do
- River Run Red
- Bandhobi (Or, A Fundamentally Ill-Conceived Retrospective On Friendships And Privilege Amongst Women I Know)
- Out of Style
- Lately, Lightly
- The Death of the Poet (Or, No Rhyme or Reason: How Bad Poetry Can Become Good Music)
- The Ground Beneath Her Feet
- Dasvidaniya (Or, "The Best Goodbye Ever": A Tribute to Vinay Pathak and Sons Who Die)
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