You may be the subject
today.
You be the cause of the effect
today.
"What do you read, my lord?"
"Words, words, words."
They sound together,
fall trippingly [off] the tongue
but not for you
tomorrow.
When I my laptop collapse,
when I this file save
you are not required.
Dear muse,
she'll tease you and haunt you
and fill your bed a while
Don't think I'd leave my muse for you
Don't think a single poet would
Don't think these words haven't been played,written, written
written to Death
And they'll be wrote
(again, again)
till He is our
Bedfellow.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 6:54 PM UTC
You may be the subject
today.
You be the cause of the effect
today.
"What do you read, my lord?"
"Words, words, words."
They sound together,
fall trippingly [off] the tongue
but not for you
tomorrow.
When I my laptop collapse,
when I this file save
you are not required.
Dear muse,
she'll tease you and haunt you
and fill your bed a while
Don't think I'd leave my muse for you
Don't think a single poet would
Don't think these words haven't been played,written, written
written to Death
And they'll be wrote
(again, again)
till He is our
Bedfellow.