Every Poet Wants To Murder Shakespeare

Every poet wants to murder shakespeare

We’re just pissing on the grave of what went on before

And everyone invents the world the day that they were born

Something’s going on here and it’s going on without me

I’m standing on the precipice and counting all my recipes

I’m sick and tired of paying homage to the altar

Of the things that went before me when i wasn’t born to be there



Every poet wants to murder shakespeare

We’re just pissing on the grave of what went on before

And everyone invents the world the day that they were born



There’s a painting of my lover in the corner

She’s taken off her clothing and she’s standing in the rain

Seems like she’s beckoning for me to come and join her

But she’s trapped inside a painting and i’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

‘cause the poet of tomorrow will be just as drunk as i am



Every poet wants to murder shakespeare

We’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

We’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...


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