Every poet wants to murder shakespeare
WeÂ??re just pissing on the grave of what went on before
And everyone invents the world the day that they were born
SomethingÂ??s going on here and itÂ??s going on without me
IÂ??m standing on the precipice and counting all my recipes
IÂ??m sick and tired of paying homage to the altar
Of the things that went before me when i wasnÂ??t born to be there
Every poet wants to murder shakespeare
WeÂ??re just pissing on the grave of what went on before
And everyone invents the world the day that they were born
ThereÂ??s a painting of my lover in the corner
SheÂ??s taken off her clothing and sheÂ??s standing in the rain
Seems like sheÂ??s beckoning for me to come and join her
But sheÂ??s trapped inside a painting and iÂ??m running out of patience
I sip a pint of beer and marvel at the magic
I must be as drunk as mister marlowe in his prime
I stumble through the shambles of my own imagination
Â??cause the poet of tomorrow will be just as drunk as i am
Every poet wants to murder shakespeare
WeÂ??re just pissing on the grave of what went on before
And everyone invents the world the day that they were born
Every poet wants to murder shakespeare
WeÂ??re just pissing on the grave of what went on before
And everyone invents the world the day that they were born
Every poet wants to murder shakespeare...
from Lirik Berry
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