Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Poets, artist - The Tragically Hip. Date of issue: 07.11.2005
Song language: English
Poets |
| Spring starts when a heartbeat’s poundin' |
| When the birds can be heard above the reckonin’carts doing some final accounting |
| Lava flowin’in Super Farmer’s direction |
| He’s been gettin’reprieve from the heat in the frozen-food section (yaa-Aa) |
| Don’t tell me what the poets are doing |
| Don’t tell me that they’re talkin’tough |
| Don’t tell me that they’re anti-social |
| Somehow not anti-social enough, all right |
| And porn speaks to it’s splintered legions |
| To the pink amid the withered corn stalks in them winter regions (euyeaaah) |
| While aiming at the archetypal father |
| He said with such broad and tentative swipes why do you even bother (yeeaaah) |
| Don’t tell me what the poets are doing |
| Those Himalayas of the mind |
| Don’t tell me what the poets been doing |
| In the long grasses over time |
| Don’t tell me what the poets are doing |
| On the street and the epitome of vague |
| Don’t tell me how the universe is altered |
| When you find out how he gets paid, all right |
| If there’s nothing more that you need now |
| Lawn cut by bare-breasted women |
| Beach bleached towels within reach for the women gotta make it that’ll make it by swimmin' |
| (Guitar, drum ends) |