Every Poet Wants To Murder Shakespeare Testo

Every poet wants to murder Shakespeare
Weݦݠݮe just pissing on the grave of what went on before
And everyone invents the world the day that they were born
Somethingݦݠݯ going on here and itݦݠݯ going on without me
Iݦݠݦ standing on the precipice and counting all my recipes
Iݦݠݦ sick and tired of paying homage to the altar
Of the things that went before me when I wasnݦݠݰ born to be there

Every poet wants to murder Shakespeare
Weݦݠݮe just pissing on the grave of what went on before
And everyone invents the world the day that they were born

Thereݦݠݯ a painting of my lover in the corner
Sheݦݠݯ taken off her clothing and sheݦݠݯ standing in the rain
Seems like sheݦݠݯ beckoning for me to come and join her
But sheݦݠݯ trapped inside a painting and Iݦݠݦ 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
ݦâ❬¦ï¢ŝause the poet of tomorrow will be just as drunk as I am

Every poet wants to murder Shakespeare
Weݦݠݮe 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
Weݦݠݮe 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...