Every Poet Wants to Murder Shakespeare
Every Poet Wants to Murder Shakespeare
Were Just Pissing On the Grave of What Went On Before
And Everyone Invents the World the Day That They Were Born
Somethings Going On Here and Its Going On Without Me
Im Standing On the Precipice and Counting All My Recipes
Im Sick and Tired of Paying Homage to the Altar
Of the Things That Went Before Me When I Wasnt Born to Be There
Every Poet Wants to Murder Shakespeare
Were Just Pissing On the Grave of What Went On Before
And Everyone Invents the World the Day That They Were Born
Theres a Painting of My Lover in the Corner
Shes Taken Off Her Clothing and Shes Standing in the Rain
Seems Like Shes Beckoning For Me to Come and Join Her
But Shes Trapped Inside a Painting and Im 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
Were 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
Were 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...
Cada poeta quiere asesinar a Shakespeare
Cada poeta quiere asesinar a Shakespeare
Solo estamos meando en la tumba de lo que sucedió antes
Y todos inventan el mundo el día en que nacieron
Algo está pasando aquí y está sucediendo sin mí
Estoy parado en el precipicio y contando todas mis recetas
Estoy harto de rendir homenaje en el altar
De las cosas que ocurrieron antes de mí cuando no nací para estar allí
Cada poeta quiere asesinar a Shakespeare
Solo estamos meando en la tumba de lo que sucedió antes
Y todos inventan el mundo el día en que nacieron
Hay una pintura de mi amante en la esquina
Ella se ha quitado la ropa y está parada bajo la lluvia
Parece que me está llamando para que vaya y me una a ella
Pero está atrapada dentro de una pintura y yo estoy perdiendo la paciencia
Tomo un trago de cerveza y maravillado por la magia
Debo estar tan borracho como el señor Marlowe en su mejor momento
Tropiezo a través de los escombros de mi propia imaginación
Porque el poeta de mañana estará tan borracho como yo
Cada poeta quiere asesinar a Shakespeare
Solo estamos meando en la tumba de lo que sucedió antes
Y todos inventan el mundo el día en que nacieron
Cada poeta quiere asesinar a Shakespeare
Solo estamos meando en la tumba de lo que sucedió antes
Y todos inventan el mundo el día en que nacieron
Cada poeta quiere asesinar a Shakespeare...
Escrita por: Ralph Covert